


Rexque Futurus

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa Endgame, F/F, Meet-Cute, Modern Royalty, Royalty AU, and then read the prompt that started it all, clarke is a doctor, come get attached to lexa's family, future sad, lexa is second in line for the throne, lexa is the middle child, original parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: Lexa is the spare heir who follows in her father's footsteps and goes to war as a pilot. She meets a doctor who was there too long. both rehabilitate to the real world and each other, which might mean coming out to an entire country.





	1. Chapter 1

Pulled back from the front, the shore was a paradise, compared to inland where the stalemate waged, waiting for the big push. The sun took its time dripping through the July sky. Frozen in the thick, heavy evening, it glowed and made the world red and blue and purple and golden, while the water licked at the burnt shore and tried to soothe a bit of the earth for the soldiers.

Finally, on a much needed reprieve, Lexa stretched out in the low chair, wiggling her toes in the warm sand until it was cool enough to relax her aching muscles. The sun still baked her skin, until her shoulders were dark brown and slowly peeling, with freckles speckled across every inch of shoulder that peeked out beneath tank top.

Sand kicked up between her and the ocean as her squad fought over a sliding tackle, half arguing for a penalty, the other insisting on its fairness. Lexa grabbed her camera and pushed her sunglasses over her hair, careful to find a few angles before joining in herself with a steal.

If she squinted hard enough, if she forgot what just the day before had entailed, she could convince herself that it was just a beach, and they were just friends, frittering the summer away with nothing else to do but soak up sun like turtles on rocks, and cool off in the shallows when it got to be too much.

“I could spend a whole war like this,” Gomez sighed, lounging in one of the many mismatched chairs at the impromptu bar on the edge of the base.

“It’s not a war,” Seif shook his head and scratched his cheek disinterestedly. “It’s a skirmish.”

“Feels like a war,” the squat gunner tweaked and eyebrow challengingly. “I mean, not right now, but it sure feels like it most of the time.”

“What do you say?”

“Don’t get Gus started,” Lexa groaned as she drank the terrible Castrilian beer that had been confiscated from an abandoned outpost miles west of their current position. The taste didn’t matter. It was cold, and strong, though she expected nothing less of the country she found herself in, so far away from home.

“Kids these days can’t even have a war right,” Fowler mimicked the oldest member of their squad. “Back in my day, we threw rocks and spears that we made ourselves.”

The table laughed, and he even earned a chuckle from the indomitable, grizzled veteran who had eyes that never stopped watching, and a guard that never went down. Lexa shook her head and surveyed the scene from behind her sunglasses, suddenly distracted by a pair of legs leaning by the bar.

At some point, Gus responded, arguing and earning laughs from the rest of the group. Lexa caught bits of a request to braid his beard. She didn’t care about a damn thing except the chill of the bottle against her own collarbone and the girl who sat in the corner and picked at the bottle label in the corner.

“Hmm?” she snapped her head back toward the conversation when her name was dropped. “No, that was the training in Denmark.”

“Right! Denmark!” her co-pilot nodded, returning to his argument.

The sun disappeared finally, dripping beneath the horizon, extinguished by the ocean, overcome by the welcomed relief from itself as the salve of night lathered the tired people who relished the reward of the salt and breeze. The lights were cast offs from vehicles, or generator parts, all hodgepodged together to create a cantina miles from the front. Lexa hid behind her sunglasses anyway, watching the stranger.

Every so often, she convinced herself that she had the nerve to introduce herself. Every time she got to that point, put her hands on her thighs, ready to push herself up, nodding gently as she prepared, rehearsed in her head, she remembered her own name and stopped forgetting what it meant.

Instead, she watched the girl at the bar nurse a drink and ask for seconds before anyone joined her. She had bruises on her arm, black and blue and ugly, up to her shoulder. Lexa wondered if there were more, hidden beneath the salty waves of blonde that was bleached by the equator and the ocean. The only thing Lexa could infer was that this stranger was not military. She did not carry herself like it.

When the laughter of her table barked out in the night, the stranger looked at the table and Lexa finally met her eyes. Mid-smile and suddenly flustered, she took a gulp and watched her look away, back to her friend at the bar.

“Ready to turn in?” Gus asked, leaning close after Lexa let her head slump back while she cursed herself. 

“Yeah, why not,” she decided, adding another empty bottle to the completely covered table.

Finally able to push herself up, she shoved her hands in her pockets and followed the group toward their barracks. With a final glance over her shoulder, she watched the stranger not even notice she was leaving.

* * *

Safe and sterile, the hospital was finally, almost nearly completed. The staff was almost trained, they seemed almost capable, and with no recent major skirmishes or tragedies, the inane details were able to be worked out better.

Three weeks on the front lines working with triage units led to a welcomed day doing nothing but immunizing children and making supply orders for the next shipment.

Her father once told her that a day spent busy, spent breaking her back, spent exhausting herself was the best kind of gift she could give to the world. As she packed up the last few boxes of the night, as she ran a cloth over her sweaty neck and over her flushed face, she wondered if he ever considered how much the world exhausted her, and how to combat that. He hadn’t taught her that skill, though she was certain he never imagined her to volunteer for an assignment in a war-torn country, or to have the words ‘while under fire’ added to any story she may have, or to have seen the things she saw.

The sun wouldn’t set, but after checking her old watch, Clarke decided to call it a day, shouldered her bag, and walked out into the quiet. For two years, the city was her home, and for two years her love for it grew more and more. The city a few miles away was her home now, and the base was simply where she worked and begged for supplies, and trained new recruits from the surrounding villages.

“Can I have whatever you brewed last night?” Clarke asked as she took a seat at the makeshift bar on the beach.

“That bad of a day, doc?” the bartender asked with a smile. “Haven’t seen you for a few.”

“I was over in Teji, helping with the hospital there.”

“How is it?”

“Good,” she nodded, hissing at the drink. “We have a whole new round of volunteers, and the UN has sent in actual people. It finally feels like I’m not mashing my head against the wall.”

“Dr. Ardense would be impressed with all you’ve done.”

“She would have told me I should have stayed home,” the doctor disagreed with a smile. “Almost done with what she started.”

“On me,” he filled up the glass again.

With a grateful nod, Clarke sipped the second glass as the sun burned out once more, all pink and red and plunging the rest into the dark of night, upset only by the lights of the camp. A table of soldier enjoyed themselves behind her, while all Clarke could do was focus on two lists. One was the things to do tomorrow, the other was the things that would need to be figured out for when her job came to an end, if it ever came to an end.

All of it was exhausting, and too much for her brain. As she finished the second drink, she sighed and looked at the sky, and asked someone for just something, something good, and something that would make her feel human, to distract her from the numbness she discovered.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Hm?”

“Is this seat taken?” the voice asked again as Clarke looked up, suddenly sitting up and being surprised by the face the voice was attached. “I saw you hear a few days ago, and I couldn’t ask then, but I’m leaving for a few days…”

“No, it’s not.”

“Thank you,” she ducked her head as she took her seat, smiling to herself while Clarke watched it happen, watched her face before looking back at her drink quickly to avoid too much of those eyes. “Could I get you another?”

“Another?”

“Another drink.”

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

With a confident wave of her hand, the soldier beckoned a few more drinks to appear. The doctor took the moment to size up the girl who now occupied the chair beside her, startled that prayers could be answered so literally and so quickly.

The tattoo wiggled on tan skin as bicep flexed with the movement. Shoulders were sprinkled with freckles from hours in the sun, half hidden under wavy, half-damp hair.

“I’m Lexa,” she finally introduced herself when the drinks were slid in front of them.

All Clarke could do was stare at the person who gave her a drink. She had eyes like stormy forests and a smile that took residence in them.

“I know who you are.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ve watched the news at least once in my life.”

“I don’t know who you are though.”

“Does that line work?” Clarke asked as she took a sip of her drink.

“Never tried it, honestly. Should I try another? What brings a pretty girl to a place like this seems kind of relevant–”

“Clarke.”

“Clarke,” Lexa smiled as she sipped her drink and maintained the eyes on the girl who she would never admit she watched more than just one day a week ago.

“What brings you here, princess?”

“You’re good at deflecting, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard that before, but usually I deflect it.”

“A useful skill,” Lexa hummed, enjoying the way Clarke was amused by herself after drinking more. “Fine. I’ll go first. I enlisted after I told my mother that I was not interested in marrying some Duke’s son, and that I had a crush on my roommate in college. I always wanted to, just never could, and then I found some spine.”

“Sounds like you ran away.”

“Maybe a little. It all seems worth it tonight,” she confessed. “Since I’m disarmed and very honest with you, apparently.”

“We have a bit in common,” Clarke shrugged, twirling her drink around.

“You were going to marry a duke, too?”

“You’re funny, did you know that?”

“I don’t get that a lot.”

“I’m in the middle of a war getting chatted up by a princess. That’s funny enough, in a cosmic way.”

“It’s not a war,” Lexa interrupted. “Skirmish. That’s important.”

“Sure feels like one sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

“A duke, huh?” Clarke shook the thoughts from her head, let the drink linger a bit longer on her lips and watched the girl beside her blush a little.

The sun disappeared and everything dimmed until the bar felt as if it were just two people sitting there. Unsure of where she’d come from, Clarke wasn’t upset that she now had a way to spend the night. She definitely wasn’t bothered that the princess was humble and kind and funny and awkward and interesting.

Clarke stopped herself with drinks because her lips were numb and the heat of the night was worse than the day, with July roaring through, unrelenting and angry at everything.

“He comes with me everywhere,” Lexa offered as Clarke eyed the stoic man who lingered as they walked through the camp in the almost dark.

“He enlisted with you?”

“No, he has special clearance. He was enlisted before he signed up to work for my family. I do have about ten other agents who are here,” she rattled, meandering down the path.

“Seems like a lot of trouble.”

“You’ll learn that is all I am.”

The world was quiet, the bulk of the people already in bed, or already out on patrol. They shut down the bar and were thrust out into the world on their own, without much of a crutch. But Clarke learned that Lexa loved flying ever since she was young and her grandfather took her. And Clarke told her that she couldn’t remember much of her life before two years ago. And Lexa told her how much she loved the hot, sticky summer on the equator. And Clarke looked at the lights of the city just outside of the base and made Lexa stand still and listen to the world that still happened despite the terribleness of the world.

“I’m glad my squad made me buy you a drink,” Lexa offered as they reached the back of the visitor’s barracks that Clarke took her semi-permanent residence.

“I am, too,” Clarke smiled and leaned against the wall. “I’m still not used to that.”

“Gus?” Lexa looked over her shoulder. “He’s fine.”

“What if…” she stopped and looked around before leaning a little closer. “What if I wanted to try to kiss you?” Lexa chuckled at the whisper and blushed slightly. “It’s not funny. I take it back.”

“Give me a second.”

Oddly alarmed at to what she was doing, Clarke reconsidered everything in the few steps the princess took to her bodyguard. She talked herself back while they whispered, and by the time Lexa made it back to her, she thought she would work herself into the ground trying to figure out her own head. A charming princess with a tattoo and muscles and a jaw like that, gives a look like she did at the bar, and all sense went out the window.

“I’m going back home tomorrow,” Lexa said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Just for a week. My sister is getting married.”

“I heard something about that.”

“In case you want to kiss me, and then don’t see me around, it’s not because I’m avoiding you or anything.”

“Just in case,” Clarke smiled and stared at her lips. “What did you tell him?”

“Not to wait up.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Am I?”

There was a smirk. A moonshine-driven and infatuatedly-fueled smirk that made Clarke look away and gulp. The princess stood in front of her, honest and genuine. The doctor exhaled and pushed some of the hair from her forehead that stuck a bit in the heat. She looked at Lexa one last time before pushing herself from the wall. She took a step and opened the door to the small office that had once been the back room to the temporary clinic on post, but now turned into volunteers and storage.

“Wait, am I?” Lexa suddenly tensed and stood a little straighter.

“No.”

* * *

The middle of the night was his favorite time of day. It was quiet and honest. If anything, people succumbed to the silence of it, to the natural wayward wandering that lived at three in the morning, and could only spill their secrets, give up to the natural longing to unburden themselves. The inbetween hours were made for in between people, stuck between this or that, standing at the forks in life’s roads.

The king pulled his hat down and strolled through the streets of closing bars and all-night convenience marts, of single rider bus stops and empty taxis who trolled for any sign of life. It was not as if he was escaping, but that sometimes he just craved the smell of street food before it changed into fresh baked bread of morning. He longed for the terrible kind of coffee that came from the diner six blocks over from the palace and wet sidewalks licking the soles of his shoes.

It was well into dawn by the time he returned, relaxed and relieved from his wonderings. He cleared his mind from the jumble. He couldn’t sleep to save his life on a night like this, waiting.

“Nice walk, sir?” Agent Cooper greeted his mark inside the gate.

“I didn’t keep the boys out too late, did I?”

“Just a third of the night crew trailing you and clearing your path and sweeping the stops.”

“My daughter is coming home today,” the king smiled, wide and genuine and disinterested in the sarcasm of the agent.

“I heard a rumor.”

“Is everyone awake?”

“They are,” he was informed.

“Perfect,” he smiled. “It’s going to be a good day, Coop. A great day.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent agreed to the enthusiasm.

After a quick change, King Alexander, ruler for twenty-six glorious and prosperous years, the fifth of that name, descendant of the great clan who conquered this land, who lived his entire life in the very palace, who was tall and broad and square-jawed with eyes like mountains on maps, made his way through the familiar hallway to meet his family for breakfast. Dinner often meant some or half or a few were gone, pulled this way and that for their duties of the day, but come rain or sleet or snow, breakfast brought them back. An unspoken rule he had was to be uninterrupted during it, for just a half hour, he had his family.

“All night again?” his wife tsked, not even looking up from her paper as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You could have at least brought ba–” a bag appeared in front of her face, where her husband earned a smile. He took the moment of distraction as his chance to steal a much better kiss until he heard a boo from the other end of the table.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Should we talk to the doctor again?” she whispered, looking back at those eyes before checking the bag.

“Just excited, love,” he promised. “How’s it going, kiddo?” the king asked, ruffling his son’s hair as he moved around the table.

“Do I have to go to school today?” Aden asked. The spitting image of his father, the sixteen year old’s voice cracked at the suggestion.

“Of course you do.”

“But Lexa is coming home today.”

“Aren’t we missing a kid?” the king asked, pretending to count before taking his seat at the head of the table.

“Good morning, Dad,” Anya strolled in a second later. She kissed her father’s cheek and slid into her seat a second later. “When does Lexa get back?”

“I think we should have a talk,” the queen decided, primly dusting her hands from the powdered donut her husband supplied her with, the guiltiest of guilty pleasures.

The kids shared a look with their father, knowing full well what one of the matriarch’s cautionary tales would sound like. Their eyes bounced around until they were all smiling, frustrating the queen without a word.

“You all want to smother her and make a big deal, but that’s not Lexa, and you should know that. She’s low fuss and you’re all too excited.”

“We’re appropriately excited, Ev,” her husband explained reasonably, recognizing her own form of preparedness at the final return of the middle daughter. “Nearly eleven months is a long time.”

“I’ve read the reports. It wasn’t as if she was on a beach somewhere the whole time. Things were rough.”

“We know how to talk to our sister,” Anya scoffed, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Just be gentle. She’s the quiet one.”

“The favourite,” Aden teased.

“The oldest,” the king pointed at Anya, who stuck out her tongue at her father. “The precious baby,” he pointed at Aden. “Naturally she’s the favourite.”

“That was a funny joke when we were kids,” Aden rolled his eyes. His sister looked over at her parents, amused that he refused to call himself a child despite living up to his title of baby of the brood.

Ten years stood between the siblings, but still they were close, though without their middle to balance them, they fought and complained. Both were eager for the sturdy part of the siblings to come back. Both missed her ferociously. Both were too stubborn to admit it.

“Okay, tell me about our days,” the king stopped the argument before it started.

“I’m at the Children’s Hospital luncheon, followed by planning for the holiday party,” the queen rattled off absently, earning a smile from her husband as he dusted the dust from her nose.

“I have that meeting with the security council, and then I’m having lunch with Bellamy and Katie. I think later I have another fitting. I don’t know.”

“School,” Aden grumbled.

The entire domestic scene was perfect, was exactly what she could remember, what she missed being a part of. Forever the voyeur, forever the watcher, her mother always said Lexa was born with big eyes and ears that were always open, always searching. Sometimes she remembered that. It didn’t stop her from watching her family have breakfast.

So many months away, and she was convinced they’d be different, and they were, but eerily enough, it felt as if only Lexa, herself, had changed. Her father seemed a bit more wrinkled, a bit wiser. The deep auburn of his hair somehow darker. Her mother seemed slimmer, seemed happier. People said that Anya took after her most. Lexa was this hodge podge of both, never looking enough like either. Anya teased her father, and looked radiant. Aden somehow sprouted four inches in as many months.

“Glad to know I’ve been pencilled in,” Lexa dropped her bag on the floor with a thud.

“Lexa!” voices joined up after a stretch of quiet.

A second later, the returning soldier was engulfed by arms and surprise. She swallowed it up and enjoyed it despite her natural aversion to huge displays. It was necessary and she closed her eyes and inhaled it all.

“You weren’t due in until tonight,” Alex smiled widely, hugging his daughter tighter.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt?” her mother fret, scooping her up next.

“I called in a few favours,” Lexa shrugged.

“And Ironfell plays tonight,” Aden nudged her until she threw her arm around his neck and pretended to choke him.

“And I missed you all,” she teased. “But since you’re all busy, I guess I’m on my own.”

“I could ditch school!”

“No!” both parents furrowed and directed. Lexa winked at her brother.

All too soon, she was part of the panorama of her family, she was included once again, swallowed whole by them and loved even more for it. As much as she’d fled from it, she found that returning was a bitter kind of gentleness that she craved and gorged upon until it would make her sick.

Her brother handed her a cup while her father sat at the end of the table and realized how great of a day it was going to be.

* * *

“Well, I’d say that was a successful chat up,” Lexa swallowed and turned her head to look at the girl who tried to catch her breath beside her.

“I just slept with royalty. What the hell did I just do?”

“Deep breath,” the princess chuckled. “Just the spare.”

“I don’t usually do this.”

“Me neither.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t. Ask Gus. He’ll tell you.”

“I never do this,” Clarke turned her head and looked at the profile of the girl in her bed.

Lexa felt her eyes and met them with a smile before pushing the hair from Clarke’s face, a sweet gesture that did not go unnoticed by the doctor. The tiny back room that became the acting medical advisor’s quarters was bare, lit only by the light that snuck in through the windows near the ceiling. Slowly, she ran her hands down the doctor’s neck and to her chest. She earned a turn, earned a leg slipped between her own, pulling her closer.

“Save me a seat when I get back?”

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been known to do that, yeah.”

With gentle fingertips moving up and down her back, Clarke closed her eyes and smiled, amused at herself. The pilot smelled like soap and summer, with the salt of sweat and the beach behind them lingering on her neck and skin.

“What brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this?” Lexa asked again. She smiled as hips pressed against her and lips trailed under her chin.

“Let me deflect.”

“Come on.”

Despite the hour, Lexa was eager to hear the answer. Everyone had a story for that question, and it said more about them than anything else. She felt hands on her hips, felt them grow restless with thoughts brewing. With a long, deep sigh, she heard Clarke start.

“I was in my second year of residency when this started. My professor, she was my godmother. She was here training students who were kicked out of school because of the fighting. She was killed in the first year, and I came down as soon as I finished. Been here nearly two years.”

“And you built all of this?”

“Most I was triaging at first. I got some time in up front. And then I was training. And then it was getting hospitals re-established.”

“Now?”

“Now I just sleep with helicopter pilots who buy me a drink.” Lexa didn’t care about much, except kissing her again, because she could. It felt nice. The thin sheet tangled up with their legs. “You kiss really good.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m heading back in a few months. I’m going to miss it here, is that weird?”

“Not at all.”

Lexa dipped her head and kissed the doctor again, because she could, because it felt nice. Her hip pressed against Clarke’s, and she felt palms ghosting over the scratches of her ribs and back. Cool in the hot summer midnight, the hands grabbed and held tighter as the kiss got deeper, mingling with words and thoughts and distracting each other from thinking too much.

“Tell me about the wedding,” Clarke decided, changing the subject away from her own worries. “Everyone here is excited.”

“We should keep kissing.”

“I’m enjoying it,” she nipped at lips and dragged nails down naked chest. “I’m deflecting.”

“There will be a big ceremony in St. Luke’s.”

“Oh, that little venue.”

“You’ve been?”

“Once, on a field trip. Did you know you can fit the entire Remembrance Memorial in it, four times?”

“I did know that,” Lexa chuckled and propped her head up on her hand, lazily running her hands against Clarke’s chest. “I have to wear a fancy dress. They’ll put makeup on my tattoo. And with any luck, in a year, I will be farther away from taking the throne.”

“A baby?”

“Hopefully.”

“You never told me why the call sign Wolf.”

“To make me sound tough to pretty girls in dive bars,” Lexa shrugged, toying with nipple, letting her fingers circle it lethargically, with little motivation other than she could and she wanted nothing else.

“Tell me.”

“You’re demanding. Normally, you can be convicted of treason for not at least adding your highness.”

“I couldn’t let something like that go to your head, in bed.”

“Fair enough,” she chuckled and sighed. “Haven’t you ever heard the story of my family?”

“The myth you mean?” Clarke corrected, pushing her chest out against her will, needing more of the touches. She moved against the thigh between her legs and pieced together Lexa’s face in the candles.

“It’s not a myth. Wolveshire Palace. The coat of arms. Wolfrik the Great.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Before the oceans were salty, before the mountains shrunk, people and animals were the same. We come from the great leaders of the wolf clan, animals that were six times as large as ones we have now. They said we lost the magic eventually, that let us change back and forth, but the truth is, we still have it. My grandfather said his father used to transform and run through the woods, across the country, and wake up on the border.”

“So you want me to believe you’re werewolves.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?” Clarke scoffed.

“We are descended from wolves. They say the wolves were born right from the earth itself. I kind of like that idea.”

“It’s cute.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Transform into a wolf.”

“I’ve never done it. I think each generation it gets harder. It’s a nice story, isn’t it?”

“I think you should show me how close you can get to being a wolf,” Clarke growled, sucking on the bare neck in response to nails skating down her side and cupping her teasingly. “Right now.”

“That story never got me laid before.”

“I’m a fan of fairytales.”

“I see that,” Lexa grinned as she bit jaw and kissed a trail lower.

* * *

Not one thing changed in her bedroom. Not one stitch was out of order, though Lexa knew it was completely cleaned and meticulously placed back in its proper order. With a sad kind of sigh, the returning occupant ran her fingers over the petals of the fresh lavender bouquet she knew her mother prepared herself that very morning, more than likely.

It felt like home.

With a deep breath, she held it all in her lungs and tossed her hat on the table before placing her bag on the couch. She unbuttoned her top button before hurrying to shed the rest of her camouflage shirt, as it suddenly felt stifling in the setting of her bedroom.

She ran her hand into her hair and remembered the feeling of Clarke tugging at it. In a flash she remembered all of it and swallowed. Just twenty-four hours ago, and she was pulling herself out of the tiny bed in the back of the supply office, away from the girl at the bar.

“Mom is going to kill you,” Anya interrupted her thoughts, quietly closing the door behind her.

“For what?”

“A tattoo?” her sister pointed at her ribs as Lexa tossed her shirt, leaving her in nothing more than a bra in her own room. “Two tattoos?”

“She’ll never know.”

“She always knows,” Anya rolled her eyes.

“I thought you had a security council meeting.”

“You were over there. Brief me.”

“There’s not one story from over there that I’d want to tell you about,” she shook her head. “I’m going to shower.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I’m home.”

Anya debated, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, she crossed her legs and draped herself over the couch, running her fingers over her mouth, the studious kind of way her father could be found mulling in his study. She listened to her sister move around the room behind her, propped her head up on her chin and absently perused the bunch of fresh flowers that reminded her of the summer house in the country, when they were twelve and eight and would run through the fields until they thought they were lost.

Without another word, Lexa turned the shower on in the adjoining room. Anya surveyed the duffle bag, the camo and the uniform. She didn’t have much time.

“You should stay home,” Anya decided, walking into the bathroom as her sister showered.

“I had more privacy in a tent,” Lexa grumbled.

“We miss you.”

“Can we do the whole sibling bonding after my shower?” Lexa asked, sticking her head out, shampoo slipping into her eye, making her squint.

Even sitting on the toilet, legs crossed and body sublimely languid, her sister looked regal, as if she truly were bred to always hold that kind of grace. Their mother was beautiful, was demure and sophisticated, with her pointed chin, and gentle jaw, polite brown eyes and porcelain skin. Anya followed her tradition, with dainty wrists and soft curves. Tall and with a stern glare, her sister was her favorite person on the planet, though moments like this tried her sisterly devotion. Beautiful and sitting on a toilet, disrupting her shower, Lexa smiled despite it, genuinely happy to have this problem.

“Have lunch with me and Bellamy.”

“Is that still happening?” Lexa teased, returning to the water.

“It’s a small wedding,” Anya dismissed it, waving her hand, smiling at her own disinterest in marriage. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I literally just walked in the door. I don’t have plans.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed?” Lexa sighed at the sing song nature of her sister’s return.

By the time she grabbed a towel, Lexa learned that the family was traveling in the new year. She learned that she was lucky enough to miss it. That her sister was running out of reasons to put off marrying Bellamy. Together since they were eleven, a perfect match in every way, the future ruler was most afraid of love, though she couldn’t admit it. She found out that her brother got caught smoking weed because he caught a four century old tapestry on fire. That news only made both sisters remember when got caught by leaving roaches in the bottom of a vase gifted to their family by a country that didn’t even exist any longer a thousand years ago.

“You’re different,” Anya accused, meeting her sister’s eyes through the mirror as she adjusted her make up. Lexa toweled at her hair and balked at the suggestion.

“What?”

Anya pushed on the bruise on Lexa’s neck, earning a wince and guilty smile.

“The makeup washed off, punk.”

“Just a bruise from the straps in the copter,” Lexa trailed off, stretching her neck and gently touching the bruise herself before sighing and walking into her bedroom.

It took a few more minutes, but her sister finished adjusting her eye shadow and followed. Lexa rummaged in a drawer and pulled on her pants.

“What?” the younger sister sighed as she pulled on a shirt. “Come on. Out with it. I shouldn’t be out drinking in public. I shouldn’t give in and sleep with someone–”

“I was going to ask about her.”

“Oh.”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Delicately, Anya walked the thin line of trying to be there for her sister and not pressing her buttons.

If there was anything she knew about Lexa, it was that holding in the secret of Costia for so long made her almost unable to tell the truth, or at least, unable to know how to do it. The only reason she ran away was because of her mother’s reaction, and Anya hated that. But this Lexa, the one that returned, she was free, light even, with the gift of being exactly who she wanted to be.

Lexa was quiet, reserved. Anya knew it, and she worked hard at her in the gentlest way possible. If she had to describe it, she’d say getting information from Lexa was like assembling a ship in a bottle. Tedious and delicate work.

“Yeah,” Lexa smiled dreamily.

“You big nerd.”

“She’s… gorgeous, Anya. She has these eyes, and this… personality.”

“Do you mean personality? Or personality?” she made a movement in front of her chest, earning a pillow as Lexa flopped down on her bed.

“I seriously felt like such a loser the other night, chatting her up. I didn’t know what I was doing, but she kind of enjoyed it I think. It just happened.”

“You can be charming without meaning to.”

“It was a good night. She’s a doctor. Super smart. And funny.”

“Sometimes that’s how it happens,” Anya shrugged. “Are you going to see her again?”

“Do you think she’d want to see me again?”

“I don’t know. Did you tell her you’d see her again?”

“Yeah, but it was kind of off-handed, like when I get back, maybe I’ll see you around. How do you take anything seriously when that place is so removed from the world? Everything feels like it never happened. Everything feels so fleeting. Every day is a new slate, which sounds great, but it’s… draining.”

To her credit, the oldest tried to figure out that feeling, to understand the impossible to articulate. Mostly, she just wanted to help her sister with a girl because that was much easier than peace in their time.

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah.” She sighed and turned her head to find her big sister smiling.

“You’re seriously hopeless.”

“Mom won’t be happy.”

“She’s… been working on herself the past few months. I think you’ll be surprised,” Anya offered as she grabbed her phone and checked it. “I have to go, but we’re not done talking about this. I want to know more. Come to lunch.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Fine.”

“I’m going to see Dad for lunch.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad? You would rather hang out with Dad than me. It’s fine,” she feigned disappointment. “Maybe we’ll go grab some drinks tonight,” Anya smirked.

Lexa felt her cheeks flush before the realization of what Anya would spend her resources for the day investigating came to her and she shot out of bed.

* * *

The crowd yelled and shouted as they made their way into the store, but Lexa barely heard them. Her mother waved and smiled, did it all well enough. Even though it was late, well after the normal hours, they stayed open. Lexa wasn’t one for the spotlight if it could be avoided. She was barely one for time with her mother lately, but if the queen could try, then so could she.

“I don’t know what to get your father.”

“Don’t take my idea.”

“You get him a tie every year.”

“And he always says he needs them,” Lexa teased, holding the door for her to the department store.

“You have it easy. He’s so particular on his birthday and getting gifts.”

“Set the bar low and ride it.”

“How charming,” the queen rolled her eyes as she pulled off her gloves.

Empty except for a few shop girls and the secret service, the two perused uninterrupted, finding a kind of safe stillness between them where they avoided anything more than easy topics.

It didn’t hurt that things were different now. Before she left, there had been a tenseness with her mother. There was this quiet war that lingered. And then Lexa left, for the first time in her life honest, and told it would never be known. But her mother wrote her letters, as old fashioned as it had been. Words that she could never say, and now they shopped.

“I met this girl,” Lexa stated after an hour of chatter. She held up the ties in the mirror and debated which her father would like more. “I met a girl. Once. I met her once.”

“Oh?” her mother did her best to hide the startling tint to her voice. She thought she’d have time to prepare. She did her best.

“She went to Mammoth.”

“That’s a good school.”

“I know.”

“Your grandmother went there.”

“That’s what I said,” Lexa laughed, picking up two different colors. Her mother watched her debate and try again.

“Well, tell me about her.”

“It was just once. But I can’t stop thinking about her,” her daughter furrowed, both at the decision and the confession. “I mean. Maybe it was just the night. But. I don’t know. I liked talking to her.”

“It’s okay for you to ask her out.”

“Mom,” she groaned, making a weird face in the mirror. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”

“I just mean that if you’re holding yourself back because of my reaction, you shouldn’t. I support you. Whatever makes you happy, honey.”

“I know, I know.”

“The yellow one, I think.”

“Yeah, that’s the one I like, too,” Lexa decided, holding the first one she picked up once more.

For a moment, the queen stood in the men’s department and watched her daughter politely smile and give her pick to the girl who waited on them. As a kid there were days when she was unsure where Lexa came from. Anya was easy. She needed her mother. And then Lexa came and didn’t need anyone or anything. She ran barefoot through the halls and fought brushing her hair, bore her duty and chomped at the bit, fighting against it in tiny ways. She was never her mother’s, and she was never her father’s. It often left the queen at a loss.

“I do only want you to be happy, you know that, don’t you?” the mother finally asked when her daughter caught her staring, thoughtful. “You have to know that.”

“I know,” Lexa nodded, eyes on fire and fearless. “I can take some getting used to.”

“You’re my favorite, did you know that?”

“I’m sure the other two have heard the same thing.”

“I know it’s a joke, but you’re the only one I ever think I mean it when I say it.”

“I’m not mad about before, Mom.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“You’re my daughter,” she balked at the question. “I should have… I should have been more understanding. Tried harder. I guess… I just have so many years, my whole life, actually, is about the proper way to do things. I never questioned it. You’ve been questioning everything since the day you were born.”

“I should thank you though,” Lexa fiddled with a tie, straightening it it back to the position. “If everything went smoothly, I wouldn’t have found this job I love.”

“Then I did it on purpose,” the queen decided, bowing to the imaginary crowd.

“We’ll go with that,” her daughter acquiesced before linking their arms. “Now pick out what you want me to get you.”

“Tell me about this girl.”

* * *

Even across the globe, the wedding was seen as a grand affair, warranting half of a holiday and half of a celebration for a party. Not much else was done for the day, though the flags were strung up and the bars were full.

Clarke made her way out into the city to her favorite café, oddly afraid to look at the television. She connected to the ancient internet and attempted to respond to emails she’d been avoiding. Something about a certain night just a week ago made her feel different, made her feel very disinterested in plans for the future. But her time was coming to an end, and she would have to get on a plane, and so plans had to be made.

In the little shop, on the tiny television, she looked up every so often from the emails she attempted to reply to, and allowed herself a few seconds of thinking of the helicopter pilot who had the eyes of the planet on her at that very moment.

So very far removed from their place, the room, that night, the princess stood primly before her sister marched down the aisle. With a small smile to herself, the doctor went back to her emails.

* * *

For the life of her, Lexa could never imagine a day in which her father was off limits. Whenever he was in the country, he never went a day without seeing his children, stealing as long as he could with them whenever he could. And that was what she always remembered as a child.

“You’ve been busy since you’ve been back,” the king observed. The city sprawled out sleepily before them, decked in its gayest apparel.

“Anya’s been dragging me around getting ready. There’s a lot that goes into getting married apparently. She didn’t get the memo on the whole heir and spare thing.”

“You know I hate when you call yourself that.”

“As much as when I call Aden spare squared?”

“Just about,” her father grumbled.

She had a secret weapon though, something he couldn’t resist, and so she pouted slightly and grabbed his arm, holding it to her against the weather. Sometimes she let herself pretend she was the favorite. She knew it didn’t exist, that each of them had their own special things with their father. It didn’t matter.

In the middle of the city, with security trialing behind and ahead, Lexa dug her nose into her father’s shoulder and inhaled the smell that was him, that was bore into his clothes.

“So do you want to tell me why I had to give away your cousin’s box seats to the Championship next week or should I just guess?” His daughter chuckled.

“I let someone beat me at a bar.”

“Let them?”

“They deserve to be at the game,” Lexa amended.

“As long as they deserve it.”

It wasn’t planned, that they strolled together. Both were prone to sleeplessness and wandering minds. Both were unable to fight it. Both found each other sneaking out.

“You keep safe out there, don’t you?” the king asked, kissing his daughter’s head.

“I’m good at my job.”

“I mean when you’re out in public. You’re safe? Gus does a good job?”

“I’m very safe,” she promised. “All of the time.”

“You know that I just want you to be happy, right?”

“You know I just want that for you too,” she offered, earning a chuckle from her father. “I’m happy. Happy as I can be, I think.”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Mom hasn’t scheduled me to do anything has she?”

“Oh, honey, you know better than that.” With a resigned growl of complaint, Lexa let her head drop and her father tug her along down the sidewalk. “Your mother mentioned something about a girl you met?”

“I think I liked it better when she hated the idea of me with anyone,” Lexa sighed, earning a kiss on the top of her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're apart, they're together, they're apart, they're together, they get fling-y, lexa gets think-y, Clarke gets happy, and they get upgraded.

The wedding was a celebration that didn’t want to end. The halls were decked and the church was set with al manner of ancient allies and long forgotten grudges. For a week, the entire thing was all over the news, all over the world, in fact. It was a party akin to a United Nations summit, and it had the makings of an infamous reception.

But for the life of her, Lexa was grateful to be back to her land of sand and helicopter. Even though it was a good visit, even though her mother was amazing, and her sister was beautiful in her gown. Even though her father was funny, and Aden was growing like a weed. There was something just plain nice to taste the dirt in the air, warm from the hot sun, kicked up by the angry winds, and not being bowed to or expected to wear nice clothes.

“I just never imagined you in a fancy gown,” Gomez ribbed as they flew back toward base.

“Didn’t let you wear your dress blues?” another teased while the mics cackled with their laughter at her own expense.

She missed it.

“I had a moment when I said, look at that hot broad in the blue,” Sief continued in the back as Lexa flipped a switch and toyed with the stick to even them out in the wind. “Only to find out it was you. I was traumatized.”

“It’s true. He was.”

“Completely out of his wits,” another affirmed.

“It was like perving my sister.”

“Aren’t you guys done yet?” Lexa shook her head. “It’s been three days.”

“Changing your call sign to Cinderella.”

“Beheadings are still allowed, did you know that?” she threw over her shoulder.

For the most part, they kept teasing her, renewed with her threat as she landed them beside the hangar. She was a million miles and lifetimes away from that wedding, and Anya was a million miles and lifetimes away on some vacation on a pretty beach. But Lexa was here, and it was where she was meant to be.

“Drinks?”

“On me,” Lexa offered as she took off her helmet.

By the time they unloaded, stored their gear, did the run down, the sun was simmering and a little less severe, though still awfully unforgiving. The horizon fizzled and the base was quiet with a major push elsewhere. All that remained was the bar.

She hadn’t forgotten the doctor who felt like jumping into a cool pool after a long, hot day. How could she? Anya pestered her the entire trip. Her entire family was excited to hear about her one night stand. So much so, that Lexa wasn’t sure if she’d conflated it into something more than it was, that perhaps she’d misread some signs in her earnestness, that she’d never see the girl with ocean eyes again.

And then she made her way to the bar after a quick shower and saw her, and just knew she couldn’t have. Because if Clarke felt anything close to the little jump her own heart did at the sight, then Lexa was sure she wasn’t making more of it. She was certain it was real. But she couldn’t be sure. It was exhausting to be her for so many reasons, her own brain at the top of that list.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Hm?” the doctor asked without looking up from her stack of papers.

“Is this seat taken?” Lexa smiled at the parallel. She cut her hair. It was much, much shorter, settling above her shoulders. “I’ve been gone for a few weeks, but I thought I might buy you a drink to make up for it.”

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed the name, her smiling growing until she put her pen down and hugged the princess.

Arms wrapped around her neck, squeezing there. The force of it nearly knocked her over, and certainly pushed her back. It surprised Lexa to a degree, and it took a second for her own arms to return the sentiment.

“Now that’s a better welcome than the guys gave me,” she chuckled as Clarke pulled away quickly.

“Sorry. It’s just really good to see you.”

“No, no, by all means, welcome me however you want.”

She took the familiar seat and gazed over the papers covering the bar. Looking at Clarke was too much work, though it was all she wanted to do. It would out herself, she was certain. Then Clarke would know that she talked about her to anyone who would listen.

“I saw some of the pictures. You looked happy.”

“I’ve been known to pretend from time to time,” Lexa smiled, holding up her hand for two drinks. “Romance any other helicopter pilots while I was gone?”

“Is that what I did?” Clarke grinned, sly and knowing, like someone who has intimate knowledge of being naked with you and a very vivid imagination.

“Surely.”

“Are you going to keep staring at me, or have a conversation?”

“Staring,” she nodded. “Definitely staring.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I warned you. It’s not like I made up the wedding.”

“Still.”

“You cut your hair.”

“What? Yeah,” Clarke realized, hand instantly going to it, worried that it had changed without her noticing. “A few days ago.”

“I like it.”

“It caught on fire.”

“What?” Lexa nearly spit out her drink, instead, she managed to cough out her question.

“Kind of. Just a little,” the doctor shrugged, returning to her drink. “Believe it or not, the war doesn’t stop for a royal wedding.”

“I want that story, please and thank you.”

With a glint in her eyes, Clarke knew she had the stranger hooked and smiled to herself as she finished her drink in a gulp. Lexa waited eagerly, watching the doctor’s face and being absolutely torn up over missing a few weeks with it.

It was better there, at the makeshift bar in the middle of a wicked kind of summer, where everything hurt and nothing good happened, than back home at the palace. Things were better, for the first time in a long time.

* * *

There was a softness to the skin on her ribs, where the ink was embedded and terrifyingly permanent. Clarke played with it, kissed it, memorized the pattern with her fingers, as if they were the machines that seared the lines there.

“I try not to think about it,” Lexa murmured in the quiet of the night. She closed her eyes and convinced herself that she could feel the different colours from the decorations, as if they were different weights.

“You don’t dream about it at all? Not even for a second?”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” she recited. “My sister is born to do it. She’s perfect. I don’t think I’d be any good. I can barely figure out how to be myself let alone queen.”

“I never appreciated that line until this moment.”

“I have a certain love for it.”

“You seem close to your family. I always wondered if maybe it was for show, you know? No one ever knows the truth.”

“I like them,” Lexa yawned. She adjusted her legs as the girl settled between them and continued to play with her tattoo. Lips trailed along her chest until they found her neck. It was so lazy and intimate, she was surprised by it. “What about you?”

“Let’s not ruin an evening with family.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Only child.”

“I knew it.”

“How?” Clarke asked, lifting her head.

“You can just tell.”

“Are we that easy to spot?”

“There’s a certain look to someone who has never had to share a backseat on a long car trip. Those things stick with you.”

“I don’t see my family very often. I moved here and I think that broke their hearts.”

“Why?”

Lexa pushed Clarke’s hair from her face, now messy and freshly dried from sweat. She let her thumb drag along her forehead, she tugged her closer and kissed her because she could.

“My family’s run a farm for hundreds of years. Kind of like yours has been in the same business for a while.”

“And you didn’t want to?”

“They had it all planned. Take over the farm, get married to a boy who lived in town, have two kids, take holidays to the shore in the summer.”

“Doesn’t sound terrible.”

“Sometimes I think it wouldn’t be,” Clarke shrugged. “I could have done that. My mom did that, gave up her career. Maybe it wouldn’t have been the worst. It just didn’t seem satisfying. I don’t think I want more than that, than a simple little life, but I also think I just want different.”

“Tonight is different.”

“It is.”

“I want to kiss you again,” Lexa complained.

“What’s stopping you?”

“I’ve been debating how much I can kiss you before you decide I’m insatiable and have a problem.”

“We’re not there yet.”

“Good.”

Long and lazy, lips approached. Clarke felt Lexa’s hands in her hair, on her chest, always tender and so very unlike what anyone might expect. She wasn’t lying when she said she hadn’t hit the point of not enjoying every second of the pilot pressed against her.

Somewhere across the base, Gus was asleep, and Clarke did her best not to think of how public it was to just hook up.

“Some might venture to say that you missed me.”

“Some might,” Lexa chuckled. “I get attached easy.”

“I highly doubt that.”

In the dim light, in the dark of night, Lexa smiled and settled beside the doctor she was currently bedding. Outside, far off in the distance, the noises of those who woke first were beginning. It started with a clang of a gate, a yawn at the end of the bed, a squeal of the pipes as water fought gravity. But there, in the tiny bed, in the tiny room that already reeked of sex, Lexa yawned herself, exhausted from her day.

“When are you leaving here?” Lexa whispered.

“What?”

“I saw the papers at the bar. You’re sending letters, networking, there were pamphlets.”

“Six weeks.”

“Just my luck,” she sighed. “Find a hot doctor, and she leaves.”

“Your luck?” Clarke scoffed. “I got hit on by a princess and have to go home.”

“I’m an inch from telling you that you don’t have to go. That I’d like you to stay right here.” Hands slid under the sheet and pressed Lexa’s back, dragged along her spine, made her push her hihps against Clarke’s thigh. “But I think you’ve overstayed, Doc.”

“I really did.”

“Maybe this doesn’t have to be a just over here, kind of thing?”

“What?”

“Like… maybe we can do more of this stuff, but without mortars and helicopters.”

Clarke smiled and traced Lexa’s collarbones, kissed her chin. She very badly wanted to ask about the wolf again, ask if it were possible, ask if Lexa tried, still, in the middle of the night, even though she was too old for such stories. But they’d only just met. Twelve hours one night a few weeks ago, and a few somewhat dates that always ended in that tiny bed, ever since the princess’ return, it wasn’t enough to know someone to ask questions like that. Maybe she would ask, another time.

“I don’t know,” she grinned. “I like the helicopter.”

“It is nice, but not the point.”

“If you’re asking me out, I’d have to think about it.”

“Because I’m a lot of work?” she pouted slyly.

“You already know I’m going to say yes. You’re just being ridiculous.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you said no, actually.”

“Because you’re a lot of work?” Clarke teased, careful to lace her words with soft lips on skin.

“Something like that.”

Lexa let her head drop, finding a good spot in the crook of Clarke’s neck. And like a thief, she stole away there and smiled against the skin there, took a deep breath, and revelled in the feeling of warm hands on her own back.

“I’ll be home in three months.”

“Just in time for summer,” Clarke realized. “A nice summer fling with a princess sounds perfect.”

“We’ve been upgraded to a fling?” She earned a laugh with the mumble against sensitive skin.

“Sure. Why not?”

* * *

Lights from the restaurants and bars and shops leaked out into flickers and flashes as the night settled happily in the summer street. Nearly over, the summer didn’t want to go quietly, and the city clung to it eagerly, enjoying outdoor shows and concerts and events, postponing the inevitable fall with just their sheer will alone.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Lexa asked again, tightening her arm around Clarke’s shoulder.

“I’m sure,” she shook her head and hugged Lexa’s rib tighter.

Arm in arm and utterly wound around each other like vines, they strolled down the sidewalk like any other two people who were madly in love. They were wrapped tight despite the heat, bare legs out in the summer night.

The summer had been perfect. A perfect summer. A summer that was the most summer to ever summer, kind of summer. There were nights that lasted to long, with the windows open and the people outside yelling and singing while they stayed in bed. There was a few trips. There was that weekend on the coast when they didn’t leave the hotel room. There was that rainy few days locked in a cabin. There were pub crawls and concerts and all manner of simply dating and being very alive in a city after a very restrictive kind of schedule.

If anything, the summer was simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to Clarke. She didn’t think it was possible to feel so… normal. So much like herself. So comfortable.

There was something just easy about being near the princess. Something that helped her forget she was a princess except for annoying moments when things like galas and political trips to foreign countries popped up. But it was wonderful anyway. Because Clarke enjoyed Lexa when she was drunk and needy in alleyways. And she liked lunch dates with packed sandwiches and chips by the riverbank. She liked movies and hanging out and making dinner together.

Just as all flings do, it got serious when it was most inconvenient.

“We can do something else, if you want,” Lexa tried again as they moseyed down the street, tangled and happy about it.

“I like your friends, Lex. Seriously. I’m excited.”

“They just got back and I’m just so excited.”

“And you can go hang out with them. I don’t care.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Lexa, you can go have friend time. I’m not going to care,” Clarke assured her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The princess tugged the baseball hat a little lower, to disguise herself as much as possible. It was a losing war, she knew, but for now, she was in love with being herself and normal in public. It was downright addicting. Clarke was downright addicting.

“I don’t know, if there’s an expiration date on summer flings, I don’t want to miss a second of you,” Lexa whispered honestly, kissing her cheek as she spoke.

“They just got back. You owe them a drink.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just. Shut up.”

“I’m sorry?” she laughed at the order.

“There’s no expiration date on us.”

“Oh?”

“Just. Shut up,” she groaned, pushing at the princess’ side, earning a tug closer. “You can stick around, after summer, if you want.”

“Can I?” Lexa continue to tease, elated at the news she genuinely never considered.

She tried to remain aloof. She tried to keep calm about it, to put up a distance, to tell herself that she didn’t have to somehow meander over to the clinic the first second she got home after a week long trip with her mother to some women’s summit in Spain. And she tried to remind herself that it wasn’t particularly pertinent to sneak away from all kinds of meetings and planning and events for nights where they sat in Clarke’s window and drank cheap wine and just talked. But gods know, she failed every time.

It was impossible not to fall for the doctor. Lexa knew it the moment she met her. Sharp tongue and selfless spirit, she was dauntless and she was vibrant. And Lexa liked it all.

She tried to tell herself that it was the summer, coloring it in romantic hues and making her head and heart silly and loopy with sunsets and fun and life. She tried to tell herself that it was just the coming home and adjusting and such. But no reason matter, and no reason kept her from coming back. In fact, the new lease she experienced was a welcomed relief to the underlying dread she’d been hoarding. So much so, that she couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’d like it if you stuck around,” Lexa decided, though that thought had already been thunk too many times.

“Done.”

“Even for drinks tonight.”

“Go have fun with your friends,” Clarke insisted. “And then maybe stop by after.”

“Well, well, Dr. Griffin. You’ve come a long way from shyly dismissing my security detail to do dirty things to me in the back office of a post office converted into a clinic.”

“This is how you get yourself uninvited to my place,” she grumbled, enjoying every second of it.

Maybe the fall would come, and they would grow distant, and when the leaves fell, they would fight and bicker and hate each other. Maybe she’d get her heart broken soon enough. For a second, Clarke hoped that by the first snow, Lea would shatter her. The tiniest sliver of her being just couldn’t let herself have it. Not fully.

But still, Clarke smiled and kissed Lexa’s neck softly as they walked through the sidewalk toward her place, and she hoped she was wrong about summer flings.

* * *

The windows were bright orange and red, all kinds of yellows and fading greens. As the woods behind the palace changed, as the park in the distance caught fire and changed to all colors, blooming in the last burst of life before the freeze, the world held its breath, collectively waiting for the day when all fell to the ground, carpeting the streets in the most beautiful kind of death imaginable. But for the moment, in the first specks of fall, the world was very alive, burning itself bright and fearlessly challenging time.

Beautiful as the sight was, the princess took no notice of the view, as she was known to do. Instead, she locked herself away after lunch with her mother, and as everyone in the palace knew, was to be left to her own devices while she pondered.

Anxiously, Lexa paced through the room, the same perplexed, focused, and brooding furrow to her brow that her father was often seen wielding. She held her thumb up to her lip, kept her other hand on her hip and simply walked, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, in the same, exact, measured steps.

Four times already, her father passed the study that she’d commandeered for the explicit task of thinking and debating herself straight. By the fifth, he started to get worried.

Come the sixth, and he pulled his glasses from his face and gently opened the slightly cracked door, just to watch the mental tennis match that seemed near unending in his daughter’s head.

“You do know that this carpet is expensive, don’t you?” he queried, barely causing a stutter in the pacing. “Ancient as well, I believe. And you’re wearing a line through it.”

“We have twelve basements full of expensive, ancient rugs,” she reminded him.

“And if every one of our ancestors had that attitude we might be rugless.”

His joke did nothing to make his daughter pause. He sighed and tucked his glasses in his pocket as she closed his book, and took a seat, carefully crossing his legs and waiting. It wasn’t a new situation. He knew that all head had to do was wait.

There was a kind of genetic similarity between the two that lent itself to being thinkers. They thought too hard, wrestled too much, followed rabbit holes and trails until they were so far from the start they couldn’t trace their way back.

“Mom wants me to bring Clarke to dinner,” Lexa finally blurted, stopping midway between start and finish.

“Oh,” the King nodded slowly, understanding completely what brought about this mood.

It was no secret that Lexa was different. She left, alone and afraid and angry. She came back alive and happy and free. It was a welcomed change, and it was a celebrated difference. She was always thoughtful, always busy and always locked up in her own head. It was the bravest thing he’d ever seen, when she told her parents about her first girlfriend. He was so proud of her because she was different, she was an old soul and so very new to this world.

“I don’t know if I can.”

That confession must have felt like moving a mountain, because as the words were said, she looked lighter. Lexa took the seat across from her father, sunk deep into it.

“You like this… doctor?” he ventured. “Dr. Clarke. Dr. Griffin. Her?”

“Clarke’s great. I do like her a lot. I didn’t mean to, Dad, I swear I just… I thought it was… I didn’t know it’d be like… it’s just. Good. She’s good. It wasn’t supposed to happen, where I liked her, like this much, liked her,” she explained, disjointed and discombobulated. “But I do. And I’m sorry. Before I knew it, I was completely gone.”

“Hey, hey, easy,” he cooed, hoping to calm the words. “You are allowed. You’re more than allowed, to care for someone, Al.”

“I know you say that. I know we try to believe it, but come on,” she sighed and shook her head. “We know that it’s… it’s too much. It’ll be too much.”

“For who?”

Puzzled and stumped, Lexa wanted to argue, but she paused and furrowed, resuming a similar position to how she paced. It was a curious thing to have an entire history upon her shoulders. It was even more curious to feel the weight of the expectations of so many eyes.

“Listen, kid,” the King smiled and leaned forward, as if he had a secret. “I think it’s pretty clear that you care about her. And I hope by now you know that I’m nuts about you. I love you more than a crown, more than this job–”

“Don’t say that.”

“You’re my daughter. You’re one of the four reasons that I get up each day. And if you think you could ever do anything that would make me not love you, you’d be mistaken.” The princess’ furrow grew even deeper as she heard his words. “I’ve always been so proud of how you’ve been fearlessly yourself, since you were just a baby. Did you know that you fit right here,” he explained, smiling as he held up his arm and cradled an imaginary form on her forearm. “Don’t disappoint me and be anything other than yourself.”

The words were heavy on her shoulders as well, heaped upon the rest of the baggage. As much as she wanted them to be true, she just wouldn’t allow herself. Years of self-flagellation and fear made her way to be the person her father thought she was. But he didn’t need to know that. He was too good to know such things.

“You’re ready to unravel the rainbow bunting and host PRIDE?” she joked, leaning her head on her knuckles lethargically.

“This place could use a little color,” he agreed and slapped her knee before sitting back. “And if you think this palace hasn’t hosted some form of gay parade before, you should look back at your great-great-great-great-great grandfather’s paintings.”

It helped, her father’s words. Lexa smiled slightly, which was a huge victory that he took eagerly.

“So you like, like her, huh?” the King smiled slyly.

“Shut up.”

“You go fight a war and find a doctor,” he shook his head and took out his glasses again. “They do things a bit different than when I was enlisted.”

“What if…” Lexa swallowed and ignored her father’s ribbing. “What if I’m too much for her, you know? I was raised with this and these expectations. She’s… God, Dad, she’s just so good. She dropped out of med school to patch up people in a war. I’m dating Florence Nightingale. I don’t know if I can do it to her.”

“Honestly, Al, all life is, is a series of things we do to each other. And I’m going to tell you a secret. Usually the best things that are done to us, happen in moments where we answer the question you’re asking.”

She wasn’t good at having those feelings or thoughts or ideas or wishes. Lexa thought too hard to allow such things to sway her. But she needed to hear such dreamy things, to tell her it was okay to have those things. She was much like her father, though she rebelled against it vigorously without knowing it.

“You’re particularly wise today.”

“I had a grapefruit for breakfast. Did you know the doctor as assigned me to lower my cholesterol? My family intermarried and got their heads chopped off. He’s worried I’m going to have a bad heart or something.”

“They let you be king,” she rolled her eyes.

“So Dr. Griffin is coming to dinner.”

“Those trade sanctions though, am I right?” Lexa deflected.

“That’s my girl,” he decided, pushing himself out of the chair. “Just don’t ruin the rug.”

There was a certain way to how he stood, how he carried the weight of it all, how his shoulders were broad and his chin was square and his eyes were sparkling, that Lexa was forever amazed by the King, by her father.

“You’re going to be fine. You can handle anything,” he reminded her as he paused and kissed her forehead. “And when you can’t, we’ll be there. Go on. Give me a howl.”

“I’m not doing that,” she chuckled. “I’m not six anymore.”

“Come on, kid,” he urged. “When you were six, you were certain you were going to be the one that changed into a wolf. Howled all through my–”

“Yes, all through the meetings with the cabinet during the recession,” Lexa groaned. “I hate that story.”

“Let me make a note,” the King patted his pocket to look for a writing utensil. “To tell Clarke when she comes for dinner.”

“Dad!”

“I’m going to go submit to council that our state flag be changed to a rainbow.”

“Dad!”

“Pride month can move to your birth month, right?”

“Daaaad!” Lexa groaned.

“AwwwOOOooOOOOooOOOoo!” he howled as he made his way out into the hall.

From across the palace, an answer could be heard, either Aden or Anya. Lexa chuckled to herself and loved her family even more. If she wasn’t already aware of it, she’d have realized she was blessed beyond all right. But she did know, and so she savored. If her father told her to be a dreamer, told her to be herself, he meant it wholeheartedly. She could find strength in him because he made her strong.

“Come on, Al,” he waited. “It makes you brave.”

“I swear I turned once.”

“I believe you.”

“AwwwOOOOooOOOOOoooOOOO!” she finally called.

“What is all of this racket?” the Queen demanded, stomping down the hall.

“We’re adding another Pride month to the calendar,” the King explained simply.

“I’m gone for two hours.”

Lexa and Alexander, royal and the culmination of entire lifetimes stood, side by side, and much too much trouble for the queen to bother with understanding. They shared a grin and the King put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders before the other grabbed his wife.

“Come on, give them a howl,” he smiled.

From the top of the steps, the three stood there and howled. Lexa gave it all her might, still believing in that bit of legend despite herself and her age.

* * *

“My mother wants you to come to dinner.”

“Your mother.”

“My mother.”

“Your mother… the… Queen?”

“My mother.”

“But… your mother. Like the Queen?”

“Yes. My mother.”

“Your mother… who is royalty.”

“My mother.”

“Your mom. Your mommy mom mom. The Queen in the Palace? That Queen?”

“My mom, yes.”

Clarke squinted her eyes and cocked her head slightly as she braced herself on the counter in her kitchen. She watched her girlfriend take a long gulp of wine and make a helpless kind of face.

“Your mother. The Queen. Queen Evangeline. That Queen. That mother?”

“Yeah, that one,” Lexa nodded, pursing her lips before she pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and ran her hand through her hair nervously.

“Oh, right, yeah, okay. I mean. Why not. Sure. Of course. Alright. Okay. Yeah. What. Sure. Yes.”

“And my dad, and Anya, and Aden.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, of course,” Clarke scoffed, wringing the towel from her shoulder between her hands. “Were the Duke and Duchess of Rockview too busy?”

“I mean, Aunt Marie is okay enough after a few gin and tonics, but Uncle Charlie is super boring. He just talks about his boats. But if you want me to invite them–”

“Lexa, don’t joke.”

“I was being serious,” she answered quickly, until Clarke saw that she was and tossed the rag on the counter.

“Wow.”

“They know I like you. And my mother extending the offer genuinely. A small dinner. Nothing terrible. I know…” Lexa swallowed and looked down at her fingers that toyed with the stem of the wineglass. “I know it’s scary. I know I’m a lot, and we kind of knew going into it that this might be a lot. But I think we’re good. And I don’t want to hide… this.”

She was nervous and hiding it with a defensive smile. In the almost year that they’d known each other, Clarke got good at discerning the moods and methods of the princess. So good, in fact, that she was acutely aware of the burden Lexa often felt. It came out in quiet moments, when she would allow herself to be happy, when she would sigh and wish she could hold Clarke’s hand, or in the middle of the night, when she thought Clarke was asleep, and she would get up and pace through the living room.

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when a rakish helicopter pilot bought me a drink in a bar,” Clarke soothed after finishing the wine in her glass. “It’s just. When I say sentences like that, I kind of can’t believe it. I mean, look at my apartment. And I’m going to have dinner with the leaders of the country.”

“I like your apartment.”

Clarke moved around the counter and settled on the edge, leaning there beside Lexa. She crossed her arms and watch the puppy dog eyes appear, solemn and quiet and absolutely overpowering, just beneath her girlfriend’s lashes.

“What do I wear?”

“Is that a yes?” she smiled.

“Of course. Listen,” Clarke laughed as arms slid around her waist. A face dug into her stomach, letting out a warm breath. She ran her hand over Lexa’s back. “I’m not worried about anything with us. I just… I don’t want you to mistake my apprehension for not caring about you. I worry because I don’t want to push you to do something you will regret?”

“Whahahwahhah?” the words were garbled against her shirt until Lexa pulled away. “I would never regret you.”

“Not me. Just. You can’t take back what I think you might want to do. I know what I was signing up for, and what it could mean. I don’t want you to feel like I need you to come out for the entire world–”

“I am going to be me. That’s all I can do. That includes having a doctor girlfriend who is too good for me.”

Gently, Clarke pushed away the hair that fell in Lexa’s eyes as her chin rested on her sternum. She toyed with her eyebrows, running her fingertips over them softly. The glasses were taken off, smudged and fogged due to the hiding. She set them on the counter and watched Lexa close her eyes.

“My dad’s always knew,” Lexa sighed happily. “My mom didn’t want to believe it. But they don’t care. They just want me to be happy. And I’m happier than I can remember. And they want to see why.”

“I’m not the root of your happiness, Lexa. That’s all you.”

“Maybe not. But you certainly make me want to be happy.”

It was too much. Lexa tightened her arms and Clarke leaned back, earning a kiss on her chest. Her hands played with Lexa’s shoulders, barely holding there, though they were roots.

“What do I talk about with the King and Queen?”

“My dad has a new diet for his cholesterol. My mom has a renewed interest in all aspects of feminism and sexuality.”

“Alright, let’s skip them. What about your siblings?”

“Anya likes wine and Aden has a things for blondes with huge… personalities.”

“Alright, so I have things in common with them at least,” Clarke chuckled, leaning down to kiss the girl in her arms. “But seriously,” she pulled away suddenly. “What do I wear?”

Lexa didn’t have an answer for her. Or she did, in the form of picking her up and earning a squeal. Tossed over her shoulder, the doctor had little else to complain about, suddenly renewed by the idea that Lexa was so very taken with her.


	3. Chapter 3

It was still hot and balmy, even when the kids went back to school and the businesses reverted to normal hours. Gone was the feeling of summer, though the temperature remained for a little while. Even after Lexa asked and invited her girlfriend to dinner, there was still a little bit of difficulty in planning it. To have everyone home at one time, it was a difficult endeavor to accomplish, and one she didn’t really undertake too eagerly.

Between Lexa trying to fulfill her ever expanding duties, Anya and Bellamy travelling, Aden going back to school, the King being kingly, the Queen being queenly, and a doctor who had more valid excuses than all the rest, it was like wrangling cats. But eventually, it couldn’t be avoided, as those things are known to be.

The back driveway was private, shielded by trees and guards, it was nondescript and carved from the park. But there it stood, tall and grand, stone quarried from the oldest mines, from ancient magic before there even was a city around it. The castle of an icon, and it housed so much that it started to wear it all on its face, etched in the deep grout of the porous stone.

As much as she looked anxiously through the window, Clarke didn’t see any of it though. The nerves ate away at her as s he toyed with the hem of her skirt until Lexa opened her door and took her hand.

The entrance to the residence was everything Clarke had imagined, and yet everything she’d never thought she’d ever see. Lexa kept telling her things, pointing at things, being the generally charming person that she was known to be, doting on her nervous girlfriend.

The ceilings were high, the walls all adorned with intricate work. It felt like a modern take on a museum. Clarke felt like she shouldn’t touch anything or breathe at all, like she’d disturb something and the police would appear out of nowhere and escort her from the premises. Instead, Lexa wove down halls and showed her things that no one else would ever get to see.

“Did you think we’d go through the front door?” Lexa smiled. “With the tourists?”

“Kind of. You own the place, right?”

“It’s going to be fine. We’re just a normal family,” she promised, running her hands along Clarke’s arms, hoping to soothe her.

All Clarke could do was smile and nod before catching a glimpse of the giant portrait on the wall above the roaring fire, adorned in gold and boarded by heavy, lush curtains. It was the definition of opulence and the epitome of old world money. The coat of arms was etched in marble, statues of ancient gods and men wrestling wolves were on heavy oak bookshelves with ancient hardcover novels.

“My parent’s place looks a bit different,” she muttered, earning a chuckle.

“Clarke, please. You know me, and you know who I am. I still like your apartment best.”

Lexa’s words came with her hips swerving closer to Clarke’s, herself getting closer until she grinned and kissed her girlfriend. She didn’t immediately relax, though eventually, the good doctor was unable to fight it too much.

“And they’re going to love you,” Lexa promised, kissing her cheeks until arms wrapped around her neck. “Just like I do. And we get a good dinner. Then maybe I can convince you to spend the night.”

“I’m not spending the night,” Clarke rolled her eyes, pushing Lexa’s shoulder slightly, though it did nothing to deter the lips.

“Why not? I can show you my room.”

“Because you live with your parents and I’m not doing the walk of shame past the Queen and King eating their morning grapefruits.”

“I knew I should have gotten my own place,” Lexa sighed, letting her forehead drop to Clarke’s shoulder where she shook it and groaned.

“You can drop me off at mine,” Clarke promised, smiling at the display of the sulking girl.

It’d been nearly a year since someone asked her if they could buy her a drink in a foreign country with war being fought just miles away. And she was dangerously close to falling in love with that same person who hated eggplant and would give in to seeing movies that she didn’t care about when she got kissed on one particular spot on her neck. Clarke was absolutely falling for the princess who had a huge heart, who did extra visits to wounded veterans, and helped organizations with fundraising. She was falling for the girl who liked to kiss the soft part of skin below her breast, who had dreamy airs about her though no one would know it, who liked to ride buses and the subway and read because it was the quietest most normal she could be.

“And you can come up, if Gus let’s you.”

“Gus is off tonight,” Lexa grinned.

“Al!” the voice boomed from another part of the residence. “Hey, are you here, kiddo?”

“Make sure curtsy when you introduce yourself,” she whispered as Clarke straightened up at the noise and reminder of more people.

“What?” she balked.

It was too late though. Before Clarke could get an answer, she found herself not alone in the room with her girlfriend. Instead, there was a beautiful, leggy woman tugging an equally tall, equally beautiful, lanky man. They glided. Their bodies didn’t seem to adhere to earthly physics. There was a distinct difference between seeing them on television or in a paper, and somehow being in the same room as the god-like heir.

As if it were slow motion, Clarke watched Lexa approach her sibling while noises continued from the back.

“Dad’s cooking,” the princess explained. “Glenna is going to be so mad when she sees what he’s done to her kitchen.”

“It’s going to give you flashbacks,” he explained with a smile.

Clarke swallowed roughly as she watched Lexa hug her sister and kiss her brother-in-law’s cheek. It was too late for her to run, and she knew it. But as nervous as she was, she found a bit of excited there, waiting to see this side of Lexa.

“I told him not to worry about it,” Lexa sighed. “Clarke, this is my sister, Anya. Her husband, Bellamy.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” the older princess smiled and hugged Clarke, taking her by surprise. Clarke shook her husband’s hand and nodded. “Lex talks about you all of the time.”

“Not all of the time,” Lexa blushed, putting her hand on her girlfriend’s back. She earned a look from the others and cleared her throat. “Okay. All of the time.”

“I told her to stop doing that,” Clarke smiled. “I’m sorry, but did you say that your father was cooking?”

“He likes to wear aprons,” Anya explained.

“Al!” a booming voice called from down the hall.

“I’ll be right back,” Lexa sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll grab drinks. Mom texted and said she was running a bit late.”

Clarke accepted a kiss on her cheek from the inevitably future prince as he greeted her, though she was very eager to cling to Lexa’s hand and keep her close. There was no stopping her though, and all she was left to do was take a seat across from some very eager people with wolfish eyes, eager to get to know her.

“So,” Anya smiled as they settled. “You were over there?”

Clarke stared at her for a moment, because apparently they were getting right into it. She should have expected nothing less from the future queen.

“Yes. I was. I was a combat medic, triage consultant, and then I worked with setting up local hospitals.”

“Was it dangerous?” Bellamy worried, leaning forward slightly.

“At times. Lexa likes to remind me that I took more fire than she did. I guess I got used to it.”

“Alright, well I thought hearing Lex talk about her time was badass, but in under two sentences you’ve beat her out.”

“Really,” her husband nodded in agreement.

“My sister has to be the only person who can go to war and find a girlfriend,” Anya shook her head, still slightly amazed.

“I think I might be the only person who can go to war and come home to date a princess.”

“Those do seem like steeper odds,” Bellamy grinned. “I never thought Lexa would pick a smart one.”

It wasn’t approval, and it wasn’t it all, but still, Clarke relaxed slightly. She wasn’t sure how she’d expected it to go, and she hadn’t explicitly thought that she’d be given a rough go or hard time, but that didn’t stop every worst case scenario from haunting her for the past week.

By the time Lexa made it back in, she heard the laughter and felt herself relax. She hadn’t worried herself too much. She knew her family would be polite and accommodating. But she also knew that they could do that with every one. Their real opinions could be seen in the small parts of their interactions. But it wasn’t Anya’s fake laugh, and it wasn’t her fake contrived kind of conversation. It made Lexa feel better instantly.

“I swear, I watched it at a cafe in town,” Clarke explained. “Thank you,” she smiled and took a glass handed to her. “And the merchandise was all knock offs of knock offs. Your pictures were… let’s just say terrible. I saw a kid selling pictures and I think they just picked random pictures and edited them. It was funny.”

“I wish I could have seen that, honestly,” Anya chuckled. “I can’t believe they were showing it.”

“They did. There were parties in your honor well into the night.”

“And I missed all of them for your boring reception,” Lexa complained as she put her hand back on her girlfriend’s back after dispersing drinks to everyone. “Anya’s playing nice?”

“She didn’t believe you could fly a helicopter.”

“How else do you think I got her to date me,” she told her sister who just rolled her eyes.

As much as Clarke felt slightly more at ease to be over the first hurdle and doing relatively well at it, there was something about just being near Lexa that helped even more. Watching her joke with her sister and brother-in-law was exciting, and being a part of it was almost normal.

Somewhere deep into their first round of drinks, the nerves came back. It coincided directly with the addition of another few members of the family.

“Hi, sorry we’re late.”

The body attached to the voice was the one that Clarke dreaded most of all. In an instant she stood quickly, oddly unsure of why her muscles reacted like that. Lexa shared a look with her sister and smiled, following suit.

“You’re not late. Dad’s cooking,” Lexa informed her mother as she handed her purse to the woman following her.

“I told him not to do that,” the Queen sighed and accepted a kiss on her cheek from her daughter.

“Mom, this is Clarke. Clarke, this is my mother, Ev.”

“It’s… it’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty?” Clarke furrowed and couldn’t understand her own words.

The entire world was quiet. The rest of the room held it for a moment before laughing.

“Just Ev is fine,” the Queen shook her hand. “Did she tell you to curtsy too?” Clarke gave Lexa a look and pursed her lips, but all she got was a smile in return. “Why do you do this to people?”

“To ease her nerves. She was anxious about meeting you all for some reason.”

“Are you sure about her?” the mother asked, looking at Clarke seriously. “You don’t have to date her, you know.”

“I’ll answer that at the end of the night,” she promised, earning a smile.

There were a lot of them, it felt like. Clarke wasn’t accustomed to it, nor was she used to her girlfriend being nervous. Lexa was quiet, stoic, stalwart even. But now, there was a different pitch to her voice, a kind of overcompensating smile on her lips as she became hypersensitive to every word and conversation, because this was new and important and a first. They reassured each other, as much as a pair of drowning mice could reassure the other.

“Shall we go check on dinner and hope we have something to eat?” the Queen ventured.

They all continued down a hall until everything opened and the kitchen appeared, large and magnificent and busy, very busy. If Clarke had ever imagine the state of her life when meeting the King, surely she’d never considered he’d be wearing an apron and arguing with his wife while it happened.

The entire scene was too perfect, too domestic. They tried so hard to be normal, it was like acting in a middle school play.

“This might be the most embarrassing night of my life,” Lexa whispered, half to herself, half to her sister, who just laughed and enjoyed it.

It was very normal, and almost like it wasn’t happening in the private residence side of the palace. It was just Lexa’s parents. The highly recognized and guarded leaders of the country. The descendents of a long, long, long line of rulers who waged wars across the world. They were just Lexa’s parents though, and very far from people who were on stamps.

“Oh no…” Lexa muttered, mortified at her father.

Tall and sturdy, the man whose face appeared on the coinage of their country stood in the kitchen, gingerly fanning a large pan of lasagna, robe covering his nice clothes, large crown, sash and military medals firmly on his chest.

“He didn’t,” Anya gasped, the amusement trickling into her breath.

“He did,” Bellamy sighed.

“Why are you dressed like that?” The queen was the first to speak, earning her husband’s attention.

“It’s an auspicious occasion. My daughter finally brought someone home. I had it declared a national holiday.”

Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off of him while the rest of the family held in their laughter and Lexa tried to melt from embarrassment into the floor.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Griffin.”

* * *

It wasn’t the large, formal dining room, thankfully. It wasn’t even the smaller one. Despite her father’s antics, Lexa was mollified to find that he quickly took off his coat to reveal his normal button down, and his own amusement at his daughter’s embarrassment at an all time high. She actually breathed a sigh of relief as she saw their normal dining room prepared. Thy gave the staff the night off, as they did from time to time, and they pretended.

All through dinner, she tried to relax, but it was difficult. She wanted Clarke to be comfortable, and her family seemed set on making her life difficult. But deep down, she knew her worries were for nothing.

“My mother called me non-stop for three hours,” Clarke explained, earning laughs from the table as their dishes were taken away.

“How was I supposed to know there were two Dr. Griffin’s?” Lexa begged.

“You have an entire government agency at your fingertips,” Aden reminded her. “You didn’t think to ask?”

“I thought it’d be creepy.”

“It would have been,” Bellamy assured her.

All Lexa could do was smile when Clarke rubbed her knee under the table. Just like that, she was new and herself and everything was normal. It was her favorite part, the thing she couldn’t really explain to anyone. She just felt better when she remembered the pretty doctor.

“Thank you,” the Queen nodded as coffee was brought out and set out on the table. “I want to hear the real story of what happened, right from Clarke. All Lexa tells us is you met oversees.”

“Yeah, I want to hear officially as well,” Anya leaned forward.

“Oh, I, uh,” Clarke swallowed slightly and turned to her girlfriend. Lexa was too distracted by how well she did with her family. “I had just finished setting up a clinic. It was my first time back at base in about a month. I went to the bar, and a pilot came up and asked to buy me a drink. Pretty simple story.”

“Nice,” the King nodded thoughtfully. “Very classic move. That’s how I got your mother.”

“No it’s not,” she rolled her eyes.

“And then I came back for the wedding, we met up when I got back, and–”

“I asked Clarke, Lexa,” her mother cut her off. “You gloss. You’re a terrible storyteller.”

“I don’t know,” Clarke disagreed gently with a smile to her girlfriend. “She would have everyone laughing, telling these stories of people she’d met growing up, things she’d seen. I liked the one about the ambassador who burned his crotch with the soup.”

“I’d say it’s a touch too hot!” Anya and Lexa laughed, quoting the story in unison.

“And I kind of liked when she would tell us the old myths. She told us battles and families and all of it, with a little magic,” Clarke continued earnestly. “That was one of the first nights. We were across the world, and all was quiet, and she told me the story of how she got the call sign Wolf.”

“Lexa talked all night?” Aden asked in pure disbelief. “I don’t think she can say more than a hundred words per day.”

“Per year,” Bellamy amended.

“Very funny,” the princess grunted.

“And what do you think,” the king spoke up. “About those stories?”

“I think they’re nice. I saw a lot of things. Of… I saw lots of not magic when I was over there,” Clarke nodded. “I saw a lot of miracles too. Extraordinary times bring out both ends of the spectrum.”

“Did she tell you how she’d howl as a kid?” he grinned, satisfied with the doctor’s answer.

“Oh, not this,” the Queen shook her head and hid her smile as she sipped her coffee. “You’ve embarrassed her enough.”

“You howled?”

“I still do,” Lexa boasted.

“Don’t you dare,” her mother warned as the siblings exchanged glances. Helplessly, Clarke looked to Bellamy, who knew exactly was about to happen and watched his wife with rapt attention. “Alex, I swear,” she looked to her husband. “Aden, don’t you–”

The howls started and Clarke looked at her girlfriend, that twinkle in her eye, and she couldn’t help but realize what a nerd she’d fallen for beneath all that bravado.

“This is what I have to put up with,” the Queen explained to Clarke.

* * *

“Wait, so what did you do?” Anya asked, furrowing and leaning forward, her full attention on the doctor across from her.

The living room was cozy, and the drink helped make her a little brave. Their party shrunk slightly, with Bellamy, Lexa, and Aden excusing themselves to watch a game in the den while everyone else settled in chairs. It took Clarke insisting for Lexa to go, though as soon as she was gone, she got a little nervous.

Her nerves were not useful though. She fixed hearts under gunfire. She could handle a queen. She could handle her girlfriend’s father, surely.

“There’s only so much you can do in that moment,” the doctor explained. “So I improvised. We used duct tape, and I used a straw for his lungs, inserted right about here,” she pointed to her own side.

“Wow,” the princess breathed. “You really were in the thick of it.”

“It was my godmother’s home. I couldn’t let it go without a fight.”

“That is a noble pursuit,” the Queen smiled.

Clarke thanked her with a nod, caught by her eyes and how much they were like her daughter’s. Though Anya took after her mother much more than Lexa, there were still bits of her there. Mannerisms and movements, especially. The Queen was beautiful and kind, stern and loving to her family, welcoming to guests. She had Lexa’s stoicism, which most would wrongly attribute to the king.

“You work with your mother now?”

“She’s the chief,” Clarke nodded. “I get to see her pretty often.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t happy you were going away to a warzone.”

“Not at all,” she agreed. “But she understood. When I called her from the plane on my way.”

“What do you think of it?” the King asked. “The war.”

“Oh, honey, leave it for the night.”

His eyes grew heavy with the thoughts. Clarke saw the weight it must have had on him. Strong as he was, hidden as he kept it all, it was right there. Still, despite his wife’s insistence, Clarke knew that he expected an honest answer.

“I think that I was over there too long to answer that question fairly.”

“That was some expert political maneuvering,” Anya chuckled to ease the mood as she sat back on her chair and sipped her drink.

“She just might survive dating Al after all,” the King nodded.

The night was cold, but still, Clarke followed when requested. It seemed like her only option, and she didn’t know much else or way out of it, with Lexa still distracted and not around to rescue her.

That was how she ended up in the private garden of the palace with the Queen. A sentence she never imagined stringing together, though her life seemed quite populated by those things now that she met Lexa. Things changed. Lots of things. Everything, actually.

“Alex was excited because he loves putting on a show,” the Queen explained. “I invited you to test you.”

“Test me?”

“You’re not stupid, Clarke. You’re brilliant, well-spoken, polite, courteous, all the makings of a fine wife.”

“Wife?” she gulped.

“You know what dating my daughter means.” It wasn’t a question, and this time Clarke didn’t have to ask dumbly to hide her own anxiety. “You’ve thought out every scenario.”

“I’m not… I don’t… I like Lexa. She came out of nowhere, and I wasn’t expecting it.”

“But you’ve thought about what this will mean, haven’t you? To come out, in her position. To be the topic of every newspaper story for the rest of your life.”

“I’ve tried to imagine,” Clarke corrected. “I have no idea what it will mean or feel like.”

“I’m not trying to dissuade you, you know?” the mother crossed her arms and stared out at the trees in the distance. “I’m trying to prepare you.”

“I know.”

“I love my daughter very much. I failed her once. I won’t fail her again.”

For a moment they were quiet, caught out on the porch among the chill of the season and the winter night that wanted to numb them completely. Clarke had not anticipated this kind of talk, nor had she planned for the night, though she thought it went better than possible.

“Lexa is genuinely good,” Clarke said to the night, not looking at the mother. “Sometimes you see pictures on the news and you know it’s for a photo op or something. But Lexa, she’s selfless. She’s brave. She’s got this dry wit that could easily be used with arrogance and condescension, but it’s not. Everything she does, is to elevate someone else. I’ve never met anyone like her. It’s not the schools or the fancy dinners around the world or growing up with a crown. I think you raised an amazing person. And I know I can’t make this process easy, but I do know that I’m going to be here for it all.”

The Queen smiled to herself at the words, though she stared out at the trees and the night and felt warm against the shiver.

“Which was worse, coming to this or triage?”

“The gin over there is terrible. This isn’t bad at all.”

“We should head back in.”

Neither moved.

“It’s kind of nice out,” Clarke offered despite her own shiver.

“It is,” the Queen agreed.

It still wasn’t approval, but it was something.

* * *

“Lasagna. He made…. Lasagna…” her friend furrowed and cocked her head at the story.

Clarke just laughed and took another sip of her coffee. It all felt like a dream, and as the words came out, she almost couldn’t believe she’d lived through meeting her girlfriend’s parents either. But telling her best friend made it true, she thought.

“It was actually really good,” Clarke grinned to herself.

“You ate lasagna with the royal family because you’re dating a princess.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Raven watched and listened as her friend told her about the night, about the queen and how nice everyone was, and how nervous she had been. In high school, she was certain that Clarke would never be anything but wild. But after disappearing across the world for years, she came back different. Not bad, not wounded, but different. Tempered.

The café on the corner beside the hospital was very alive in the mid morning hum. It emptied out of those heading to work and kept busy enough with lollygaggers. Unable to get any sleep after getting called into a trauma after dinner, Clarke was in dire need of caffeine, while her best friend was in need of details. 

Without much time to get into it, Clarke sipped her drink and walked with her friend back to the hospital, giving out what she could, answering the obscure questions. The truth was, she hadn’t even had a second to contemplate it all, with the words of the Queen ringing out in her ears in an unending echo of sorts. As brave as she thought herself, something about this huge thing was terrifying her beyond repair.

“Clarke?”

The chill of the day and grey clouds distracted her, though her name warmed her slightly. Raven stopped her excited speculation and turned as well until they both held their breath and came face to face with the charming princess.

“What are you doing here?”

“I know you had a late night. I thought you might need this,” she offered the steaming cup in her hand, frowning slightly as she saw the hand holding another. “But you seem covered in the coffee department.”

“Oh God, yes,” Clarke hummed and quickly took the other one, handing Lexa the already empty cup. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

With wide eyes, the amused princess watched her girlfriend sip the scalding drink like it was salvation. She didn’t stop after her first sip.

“Hi, I’m Lexa,” she grinned and offered her hand to Clarke’s accomplice who she vaguely recognized from stories.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Raven, is it?”

“Sorry,” Clarke swallowed and took a breath. “Yes. Sorry. Rae, this is Lexa.”

“You think I don’t know the princess of our country?” she scoffed and shook her hand.

All regal and poised, a large tartan scarf the colors of her house hung loosely around her neck, while beneath a tan peacoat a knit sweater betrayed her relaxed demeanor. Clarke just saw adorable. Raven saw the dollar signs and the accumulation of years of polishing school. This woman flew helicopters once, but now she was a princess, even when dressed down.

“I was just catching her up on my date last night,” Clarke explained. “Were you going to come into the hospital?”

“Yeah, this other one was for your mom,” she teased. “Did she tell you about how she dazzled my parents with war stories?”

“She was just getting to the embarrassing stories about your childhood, actually,” Raven corrected. “But she can tell me later. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Be right in,” the doctor promised.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” the princess offered.

It was there, in the smile, in the eyes, that Raven saw the little human part that Clarke claimed existed beyond the postcards and stamps and royal portraits, though she didn’t let herself dwell too much. The princess was dangerous in very unfamiliar ways, and Raven wasn’t sure how she felt, nor how to take her friend since her return. And so she kept quiet and nodded her farewell, leaving the two in their own little world with bodyguards around them, unnoticed by the hustle and bustle of the city.

“My parents loved you, by the way,” Lexa smiled at her girlfriend. “They wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“I actually had a good time.”

“Good enough to let me take you out as a thank you sometime this week?”

“I don’t know if it was that good,” she shrugged. “Did they really like me? You’re not lying to make me feel better?”

“Clarke, I swear,” she promised quickly. “My dad is convinced you’re a genius. Anya liked your stories. Aden just liked your boobs. And my mom liked the way you looked at me, whatever that means.”

“It means I like you, nerd.”

“Yeah, well. I promise.”

“We have a lot to talk about, you know?”

“I know,” Lexa nodded. “But I’m not worried if you’re not.”

For a long time, Clarke stared at Lexa’s earnest eyes and she knew her well. She knew how she ticked and the honor behind her bones. The smile came slowly as she agreed.

“Not a bit.”

“Good. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I really wish I could kiss you, but I suspect we’re both not there yet, just in case.”

“I wouldn’t want Gus to see, naturally.”

“You’re seriously my favorite person, did you know that?” Lexa shook her head and chuckled.

“I had a suspicion. Now get out of here. Go behead commoners or kiss babies or whatever it is you spend your day doing.”

“Beheadings are on Thursdays, but I do think I have some babies to kiss.”

“Get out, I mean it,” Clarke teased, nudging her slightly. “Unless you bring me more coffee.”

“You’re cut off.”

With a smile on her lips, Clarke stood there and watched Lexa give her a wink and wave before having Gus approach as they moved toward the car on the curb. She inhaled and held the cold air in her lungs and jostled the warm coffee in her hand, unsure of how in the world the past twenty-four hours had even happened.

* * *

The pictures that came should have been expected, however, Clarke was surprised by them. Everything was too perfect, too calm, too normal, that naturally, everything just seemed to fall into place, and that was too shortly lived. The pictures weren’t terrible, but the people taking them were.

The one that was her favorite was when Lexa was explaining, leaning close and pointing at the pitch. They looked happy, to Clarke. She looked happy, though she was so unaccustomed to seeing herself through someone else’s candid lens.

The headlines didn’t help. The guessing and questioning and theories about her identity. It all made Clarke obscenely self-conscious. Two official dates in public, and everything changed, just like she knew it would, but also in ways she never expected.

“You shouldn’t read those,” Lexa sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed as she pulled on her pants and socks.

“We shouldn’t have gone together,” Clarke realized as she flipped another page.

“Do you mean that?”

Her shoulder’s fell slightly, though she refused to look back at the naked girl in the bed, hidden under a heavy quilt and sunshine. The colors of the lights faded against the day, and Lexa missed them greatly.

“No,” she huffed and turned the page, agitated with herself.

With a small smile and relaxing of the muscles of her shoulders, Lexa let her foot drop before taking a beat. It was early and the sun was that cold kind of sun that feels violent despite the weather. Snow would be fresh out there. Gus would be waiting beside the car out there. In here, things were different. Things were warm and safe and quiet.

“It’s only going to get worse.”

“You walked into my bar in another country and I’m on the cover of every newspaper in the city–”

“Probably the world,” Lexa reasoned, looking for her shirt on the ground.

“You’re missing the point. I just… this is fast.”

“Nothing is happening.”

“According to this one, a lot is,” Clarke argued, opening another after tossing the last on a pile. “I didn’t think.”

“Nothing is going to change, but I am not going to waste my time not spending it with you because of those stupid things.” In a huff, Lexa pulled the shirt over her head and brought it down with force.

“Still.”

“Stop looking at these,” she insisted, grabbing the papers and shoving them from the bed to the floor. “We’ve talked about it. This is how we do it. My family knows how to handle this. Hell, we’ve survived worse scandals than this. Do you want to go out with me again?”

“It’s harder to answer when you’re dressed.” The princess cocked her head and pursed her lips at the blonde in the bed who eyed her warily. “Tomorrow?”

“Stop reading these. I mean it. I like you, Clarke.”

“Good,” she decided, tugging on her arm until Lexa hovered over her in bed. “I’m sorry. It’s just weird and new and scary.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Lexa promised, kissing her softly. “Don’t freak out. You’ve bandaged people with mortars going off around you.”

“Yeah, well that seems a lot more reasonable than those.”

“Okay,” she smiled, kissing her again. “I have to go or my sister will send the Bravo team and the palace guard after me.”

“See, jokes like that aren’t funny,” Clarke pushed herself up in bed and watched Lexa move around the apartment.

“A little funny.”

* * *

An entire multicolor galaxy covered the bare back in the bed. Lexa was intimately distracted with it. She skated her fingertips along each color, watching the blues and reds and greens and oranges meld together so that Christmas appeared in her hands.

A small hum emerged as shoulders rolled, stretching under the careful parade of reverence. The sheet stayed on her hips as she rolled over. Lexa moved with it, draping herself over Clarke’s hip. She didn’t care that she was covered in the same christmas light colors. She only cared about the creamy skin under her hand. She splayed her palm over sternum as Clarke took a deep breath. She bent down and kissed the black and blue bruise that slumbered beneath skin on Clarke’s hip.

“I like your decorations,” Lexa whispered. Absently, Clarke ran her nails along Lexa’s thigh, stretching herself out diagonally across the bed. “I want some of these lights. You’re covered in colors.”

“What am I going to do with you, princess?”

“I don’t think there’s much left,” she grinned, biting at hipbone before resting her cheek there. “You did a few things I’m going to be a fan of already.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I am.”

Clarke shook her head and laid her head down again, letting the girl in her bed run her hands over her body in ways that were innocent enough, but torture at the worst. It wasn’t a terrible way to spend a night.

“What’s it like to fly?” Clarke whispered. “You said you missed it, at dinner, and I guess I never thought about what it must be like.”

“Wonderful. Terrifying. I’ve never felt more at home.”

“How did you pick it?”

“They wouldn’t allow me to do anything dangerous. I wanted to be strike team, but that was too much in the thick of it. This was a compromise.”

“What did you do? I always just thought you flew around. There had to be more to it.”

“I provided cover support, evac, eyes if needed.”

“You can’t keep doing that,” Clarke whined, eyes fluttering shut as Lexa’s fingers swirled around her nipple. “I can’t think straight.”

The only response she got was a chuckle and contented sigh. A hand still raked over her body, cupping and playing with the colors.

“Do you think you might want to come over for small party tomorrow night?” Lexa murmured, furrowed and contemplative and tongue thick with asking.

“To your house?”

“Well, yeah. It’s just my family. Not much of a party. But we do family things.”

“You don’t have to invite me, you know?”

“I want to. They like you a lot.”

Far away was the pub and the game and the party at the palace. Long forgotten was the flying and Gus and her family that she would see in the morning. The entire universe was splashed under her fingertips, and Lexa tried to place herself in the spectrum of time and space, but failed, instead choosing this moment to be the anchor for all else, all history and future and lives sprouted from this.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard for someone who is naked in bed,” Clarke teased, pushing aside Lexa’s hair on her temple, dragging her fingers through it, earning a hum.

“I wish I could freeze time. I’m quite happy right now.”

“Sex usually helps.”

“Yeah, I liked that.”

“The night’s not over, you know,” Clarke moved, pulling herself closer so she could kiss Lexa’s knee. “Unless your car turns into a pumpkin or something.”

“It won’t.”

“Good.”

In a second, Lexa moaned and decided freezing time would be the next skill she attempted to acquire. For she was happy, and she only just realized that it was a state she’d been inhabiting for a long time. With a warm mouth on her skin, she hoped it was a place she’d inhabit forever.


	4. Chapter 4

Breakfast was a sacred time in the palace. From the table, the large windows opened up to the spacious grounds and garden with the fountains and the flowers. Most of the year, it was all green and manicured, the promise of a great day. But come winter, it was pure magic. Even after the holidays, the lights remained up and the world was untouched and white, al pure, uninterrupted snow.

Despite the chill that remained, even into the new year, it was a paradise that Lexa loved the most. It might have been her favorite winter yet. After months in the desert and two missed holidays and proper winters, it was a whole new level of joy when the first snow came. And it was only made better with Clarke.

The palace was one of the few places that Lexa felt comfortable being open with their relationship. Of course, she snuck moments in public, but being able to be on the grounds, walking through the snow and the lights with a girl like Clarke was very new and very good. She met a doctor in the middle of a war and she fell in love.

“I think this settles it.”

“Settles what?”

“You have to come out,” the queen decided as she folded the paper and set it on the table. “Have you seen this picture?”

All that Lexa could do was stare at her mother, who didn’t seem to notice, only sip her tea with little reaction to her daughter’s surprise. It was all business despite the eggs and toast and fruit that made their breakfast.

Lexa had an entire day planned already. She was going to have Clarke over for movies and recovering from their night out last night. She was going to be sweet and she was going to cook her dinner. It was a whole day on one of those precious days off that she didn’t have anything pressing, and that the doctor of the relationship was free from all responsibilities.

And then her mother.

“Hey, everyone,” the king breezed in a second later. “I have to go to lunch with the PM today. Does anyone want to come? He’s so dreadfully boring. Never laughs at my jokes.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny,” Anya appeared a second late, kissing her father’s cheek before taking her seat.

Still oddly mortified, Lexa looked curiously at her family, as if they were all so normal, and she was suddenly further reminded how she wasn’t sure how to exist near them. Maybe if she didn’t say anything she could leave the room without another plan from her mother. Maybe if she just–

“Oh, Al, kid,” her father shook his head and winced slightly as he picked up the paper. “Seriously?”

“What?” her sister shifted to look at the picture on the front page that her father held up for the table.

There was no escape. Lexa felt her cheeks burn though she focused on mashing up her eggs even more. She wanted to talk to Clarke, to go see her, to see how she was handling it, but she couldn’t move. Instead, she just blushed and avoided the glances of her entire family. She ruined Clarke’s life, plain and simple, and she had such a nice day planned.

“This is why she has to come out. I’m thinking I have Jean set up an interview. Just you at first, and then the family–”

“Hold on, you’re serious?” her sister balked. “That’s no one’s business.”

“I think it’s everyone’s when she’s caught with her mouth on a doctor’s neck,” her father disagreed, frowning as he turned the page to shake the images.

“I thought we were just going to ride this out and ignore it until its normal.”

“Your sister is a tad too gregarious for that method,” her mother sighed and stirred her tea. “Honestly, Lexa. There are things you don’t do in public.”

“I was– There– She–”

“I think your mother is right,” the king decided. “Rip off the bandaid.”

“Dad!” Anya disagreed, perplexed by it all.

“Listen, kid, you outed yourself. We all support you, but in order for us to do that, you have to get ahead of it.”

“Which is going to be difficult, since we’re already behind,” Viv sighed and sipped, her disappointment evident. She was never one to be behind in anything, but especially the press, and for the first time ever, Lexa almost appreciated her proactive nature despite what it meant.

“You don’t have to do this,” Anya promised, quickly reassuring her little sister. “Let them talk. You don’t have to make it a thing.”

“I hate saying this. You know I do,” the king furrowed, his concern showing across his Roman features. “But this is for the crown and the country. I know you hate being a symbol, but for us to be behind you, to love you, like you know we do–”

“We are behind you, and that has never been a doubt,” her mother added. “I understand now what simple words or not accepting can mean. You know better than anyone how important it is.”

“You have to give us the opportunity to publicly acknowledge and love you, Al. If the crown supports you, it means we support everyone else.”

The weight of it suddenly slopped onto her shoulders like heavy snow sliding off of a roof. It encompassed her completely, drowning in it. Lexa looked at her sister and swallowed, already knowing full well what she had to do.

Next to her, her sister picked up the paper with the stupid picture, so that Lexa got an even better look at it. It was a hot picture, and she remembered the moment clearly, or at least as clearly as someone who had a few drinks, really could remember something like that. But Clarke was so damn kissable, and she hugged her in the crowded pub, and they were unknown, or at least Lexa thought they were. Now she ruined everything, and Clarke would hate her.

“This is not how I expected my morning to go,” Lexa finally muttered, picking up her toast, shoving it in her mouth and stalking away from the table. It was as close to a confirmation as her mother would get, and she knew it.

“If you’d just gone into the bathroom, like a normal couple,” the king shook his head and tossed another paper with the same image, so it slid down the table, picture side down.

“Next time,” Lexa yelled as she made it to the hall, quite seriously.

* * *

There was something different about pulling into the palace for the fifth time, that just really made Clarke sigh and believe she could get used to it. That thought immediately came with the notion that she might have to learn to accept it. That then was followed by the idea that her picture was on every newsstand getting her neck sucked by the person that was third in line for the crown, and it all came crashing down on her.

When the car arrived at her house, she didn’t even question it, but rather got in and let Gus transport her anywhere that wasn’t surrounded by the eyes of anyone who might have recognized the Mystery Girl on the cover of the national magazine.

“I’m so sorry,” Lexa shook her head, waiting at the door to greet her girlfriend. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have–”

“I’m fine. Nothing to apologize for.”

“Still,” she smiled awkwardly before hugging the doctor tightly.

It didn’t take long for Clarke to melt into Lexa’s embrace. She didn’t know she needed something like that until she got it. For a moment, Clarke relaxed into her girlfriend’s arms, welcoming the warmth and the contracting of muscles that held her tight, as if they were keeping her safe and at the same time keeping her locked in place, so she couldn’t leave, clinging to her.

“We’re going to go inside and have tons of strategy meetings with people who want to protect the crown and my family. I need you to know that if it’s ever too much for you–”

“Don’t. Please. I want you and we knew this was coming. I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to, actually. You’ve got me hooked.”

“I was going to say you have to suck it up because I’m nuts about you,” Lexa grinned. “But I like your answer.”

“I’m scared though.”

“Yeah, me too.”

It was as honest as they were going to be. No one else would know that little truth, about how afraid they were of each other, their feelings, and the world, but they said them together on the driveway outside the palace.

With nothing more than a nod, Clarke patted Lexa’s chest and reached up, tilting her chin so she could kiss the princess’ cheek. She knit their hands together before taking a deep breath and leading Lexa inside.

 

There were many experts. There were more experts on royal law and public policy and opinion that had to be consulted, than Clarke could ever imagine. There were so many experts about everything that was happening or not happening, that she couldn’t keep any of them straight to save her life.

Instead, she just tried to pay attention and listen to each.

Weirdly enough, she knew that the batch of publicists and important people squawking about, were still better than listening to the news. She was quite certain a blurry image was making its rounds on the evening reports. She was quite certain that many people were saying many things about who she was as a person and who they thought Lexa was and ought to be. Just the idea of it made her blood boil.

“It’s actually a dream couple,” one of the assistants explained. “Princess finds do gooder doctor with great backstory. It sells itself, minus the whole same sex thing.”

Clarke felt Lexa grip her hand a little tighter as they sat there in an office somewhere in the palace. It felt like a more official part than the family quarters. Clarke couldn’t focus on much of the words, but she looked around the room and tried to memorize it all.

“Yeah, that pesky thing,” Lexa mumbled and scanned a piece of paper. “This schedule seems really heavy. There’s no way we need to do all of this follow up.”

“It’s heavy because you’re coming out. And we need Clarke to be there the following day, but maybe just in print, get some quotes.”

“Me?” Clarke furrowed and swallowed.

“You have an amazing story. You got a princess to fall in love with you.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“See? That makes it even better.”

Across the room, Lexa eyed her mother as she read through a document. Her father was nowhere to be seen, most likely smoothing over people with personal phone calls. Beside her, Clarke was a good sport, but it was all becoming too much to even handle or think about, and so she did all that she could to swallow it, until she couldn’t.

“We get you a good reporter, one who is in support of this, and we situate you as mavericks on the verge of a new millenium.”

“If that’s what will make this all go away.”

“Honey, this isn’t,” the aide smiled and shook her head. “This will never go away. You both will always have extra phrases and things attached to your name. This might become normal, but it won’t be for years and years–”

“Alright, we’re done for the night,” Lexa stood, objecting to so much of it and finally being unable to tolerate it.

“But we still–”

“I said that we are done for the night,” she repeated, not backing down.

For a moment, all was quiet, the little war room of an office stilled before slowly turning to look at the Queen. Clarke didn’t know where to look, but she thought that Lexa was always the safe bet.

“You heard her,” the Queen waved them off. “She’s done. We sleep on what we’ve discussed and make a decision in the morning.”

“Your majesty, with all due respect, there is not time to waste–”

“My daughter has much to sit and speak with her girlfriend about regarding the years and years of alleged future ignominities they must face. The world out there will not stop speculating, and we certainly aren’t going to rush.”

“Yes ma’am,” the public relations secretary nodded and bowed as he grabbed his folder. “Until tomorrow. But what shall I tell them tonight?”

“Tell them that our family is as unified as ever, and that we know that something as simple as love will not topple an ancient monarchy.”

Clarke smiled at the description, for the first time feeling somewhat at home, or at least, at ease, with the reigning monarch. She felt Lexa relax as well, which was more welcomed than anything else.

“If that fails, remind them of King Duncan and his prince consort, or, I don’t know, most of human history.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. “Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” Lexa tipped her head toward the group as they left. “I cannot express my gratitude in your service for us tonight.”

“Our pleasure.”

It wasn’t until they left that Lexa flopped down dramatically onto the couch beside her girlfriend, sinking deep into the cushions as she sighed a heavy, laden kind of noise to match the somber mood she felt despite the fake hope she offered those who worked for her.

The Queen didn’t look up from her desk as she read over something, tilting her glasses slightly as she scrolled on her phone.

“How are you doing?” Lexa asked, reaching out to rub Clarke’s back after a moment of catching their breaths.

“That was it? I was expecting much worse.”

A chuckle started from the desk across the room, making Clarke smile despite herself.

“Have I mentioned recently that I like this one, Lexa?”

“Not in the past twenty minutes.”

“I just think you’re dating up is all,” she smiled and paused to read someone’s tweet in support of the rumors.

“You here that? You’re dating up,” Clarke teased. “I’m a catch.”

“You really–”

“Viv, can you call Anya. I need her to set me up a web thing,” the King barged in, with purpose. “I can’t figure out how to do this. I don’t know my email. Do I have an email?”

“I swear to God I have to get my own place,” Lexa said through gritted teeth. “They’re damn embarrassing, aren’t they?”

“Nevermind, this daughter will do,” he shook his head and sat down opposite them, where the herd of people once hovered. “I want to talk to all of these people who are saying such nice things. They even just put pictures. Little pictures though. Lots of rainbows and hearts. I’ll tell you what, we thought the internet was going to go much differently, back when it was a terrifying death trap.”

“I’m not getting you a twitter,” Lexa shook her head and sat up a bit.

“Do I have to do the curtsey thing still, or–” Clarke furrowed.

“What? No. Stop telling people that, Al,” the King made a face before returning to his phone. “How does your mother have a twitter and I don’t?”

“The internet is saying some lovely things, Lexa,” her mother interrupted her father’s annoyed fretting. “I think it’s going to be okay for you to just talk. Give an interview, and then be completely normal. Nothing changes. Things become normal.”

“Do you think Jonathan was right?” Lexa wondered. This time, Clarke’s hands wandered to her lower back where they pressed and soothed before wrapping around her hip toward her waist. “That people will talk forever?”

“No. I think it’ll be interesting for three seconds, and then on to the next thing.”

“Unless we get into inheritance law, and then if you decide to have kids,” the king wagered. “That’d spark some intense debates on the floor of Parliament.”

“Alex!”

“Dad, seriously,” Lexa groaned and flopped back again.

“Why don’t we just go on a few dates, and see if we want to uproot an entire constitutional monarchy with potentially illegitimate children later?” Clarke offered, rubbing Lexa’s thigh. “I might not even like you.”

“She’s got a point,” Lexa’s father mumbled as he continued to tinker on his phone.

“If there’s a merciful God, He’d kill me right now.”

“She’s not,” the Queen reminded her daughter.

“Stop whining. We’ll figure it out. It’s not that bad,” Clarke decided, though it was more for herself than for her girlfriend.

“Have I mentioned how much I like this one?” the King grinned and finally looked up at the scene on the couch across from him.

“Just let this be over,” Lexa groaned and shoved a pillow over her own face, willing it to suffocate her so she could escape the Hell in which she’d becoming a permanent resident.

It was only Clarke’s soothing hand on her thigh that made her remember she was alive, and that was enough of a Hell.

 

On a fifth grade field trip, Clarke once walked through the halls of the palace. It was the part open to the public, and it was nowhere close to where she was now, but still, she remembered the sense of awe she felt. But after the day she had, after being uprooted from her home, spilled across pages and hours of news coverage, the palace itself wasn’t overwhelming anymore, but merely everything it now represented in her life.

But when it got to be too much, she caught Lexa’s eye, and earned a smile, or when she felt her head swirling with regret and missing a warzone with mortar fire, somehow, Lexa just knew, and would touch her, kiss her, or make a joke to lighten it all up and remind Clarke that for some reason, it was all worth it. It felt like it was too soon to ask the question of if it was worth it, because to ask that meant acknowledging a depth of feelings.

Of course, the scariest part of asking that question so soon into their relationship, was that she already knew the answer.

“So this is your room? Or wing?” Clarke smiled as she moved into a living room that was easily the size of her entire apartment.

“A little bigger than an old post office back room, but it does the job.”

It was decorated in all manner of Lexa. Despite where they were, despite what existed out in the hall, the ornate and the velvet and the old and the royal were all left outside, and inside was modern and classic and clean and Lexa.

An entire wall was bookshelves, primarily fitted with old books and movies. Lots of movies. Picture frames and snow globes covered everything else.

“I like it.”

“Should I take you to a guest room or–”

“I can’t believe I’m staying at your place when you live with your parents.”

“To be fair, they’re on the other side of the palace. At least a ten minute walk,” the princess grinned, crossing her arms as she waited for Clarke to finish looking. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get my own house. Maybe if they disown me.”

“No one’s going to disown you.”

“It’d be easier.”

“Your family is fighting hard for you, because it’s important. You’re important. They’re not going to let anything change that,” Clarke promised.

“But it’d mean I’d get my own place.”

“Well, in that case, I should talk to your mother about it right away.”

It took a few more minutes of bickering and bantering before Clarke followed Lexa into the bedroom. She waited for clothes and accepted the extras Lexa offered, even though someone brought a bag of her own things at some point. She washed her face and stared at herself in the mirror after stripping down and pulling on Lexa’s old PT shirt. Looking back at her were tired eyes with the hint of bags starting due to the exhaustion and trial of the day.

Hunching her shoulders there, Clarke sized up her own grit, her own strength, her own ability to weather this all. She had to have it. It was only just beginning.

“I wasn’t sure which side you wanted,” Lexa explained as she stood up quickly when the bathroom door opened.

“We’ve slept together before,” Clarke smiled.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a day, and I’m not sure… things have… I don’t know.”

Nervously, the princess scratched her neck and tentatively looked at the girl wearing little more than a shirt. That certainly didn’t help.

The lightswitch snapped off and Clarke walked toward the nervous princess, not even stopping or pausing to ask permission, but rather just kissed her, right there. She kissed her as hard and as gently as she could. There was a need to it, a heavines with all the little words that got thrown around for hours, a lightness that came with dismissing them. At the very root of it all, was a simple, simple statement, and it was just that Clarke was there, and she wasn’t leaving.

“I’m very sure about all of this,” Clarke promised. “I know it’s soon. I would have wanted to wait, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anyone. I want you, Lexa. I fell for you and I don’t care about anything else. We’ll deal with it.”

“How can I be worth losing your entire life?” Lexa saddened, her face softening as she shook her head, afraid of the question she didn’t want to ask.

“You just are. That’s all I know. Life’s too short. We saw enough of it overseas. If this is what we have to deal with to be together, then so what. I’m not scared.” Arms slid around her waist, anchoring her there. She earned a smile. “I mean, I am, but I’m not.”

“I don’t think you can understand how much my family likes you.”

“I like them.”

“Tomorrow, everything changes,” Lexa sighed, leaning her forehead against Clarke’s.

“Tomorrow, everything starts,” she corrected.

“I don’t like being the center of attention.”

“I don’t know if you know this or not, but your family is kind of always in the spotlight. I hope I’m worth imploding an entire country’s history over.”

“You definitely are,” Lexa grinned and kissed Clarke back. For a second she believed that to be true. But none of it mattered. This was the future.


End file.
